The Curse
by MaggieMay21
Summary: AU - After a hunt gone wrong, Dean notices certain changes in Sam. Changes that scare the hell out of him. Can he get Sam back before it's too late? Or will he have to kill him?
1. The Beast Of Bray Road

_Chapter 1_

* * *

It was dark and soggy right outside the woods just outside of Elkhorn, Wisconsin. It had rained that morning, making the grass spongy and wet beneath the two hunters' feet as they stealthfully crept through the maze of trees and brush in the crisp dark night.

The Beast of Bray Road was a nasty dog-like or wolf-like creature with the head of a dog, but covered in dark fur over its muscular almost human body. It walked on two legs, so it could use its front claws to devour its victims with ease. But it could just as easily switch from two legs to four in the event of a chase, it's running on four legs gave it the advantage of speed which a human didn't possess.

And contrary to popular belief, this thing wasn't a werewolf. It was once a man actually. A well respected man in his village, a man of law and religion – but of course back in that day, religion and law was nearly the same thing.

And one day the man fell in love with a powerful witch. He however, did not know that she was a witch – though in that day and age, a woman who didn't go to church was often accused of witchcraft.

But he never paid attention to the signs. To him, she was his whole world – and he was hers.

One day the man went to a neighboring village to seek aid in its church with the promise to his wife that he would return in three days time with guests from the other village.

See, one of the man's villagers was being accused of murdering three virgin women in their beds. He was found at the scene of the last victims' house with blood on his hands…but the last victim was his wife, so he requested a trial so he could plead his innocence.

But once the man reached the other village, the first person there to greet him was another woman. A wonderful, interesting young woman – who he could not help but be attracted too.

Eventually the two fell in love.

When the man didn't return to his wife after the third day as he had promised, she decided it would be best to go out and search for him on her own.

Once she reached the neighboring village she was met with the sight of her husband holding the hand of a woman younger than she. The look in his eyes told her that her husband was courting this woman.

So the witch returned to her village in a blind rage and prayed to her demons. She prayed to whichever god would listen to her, until one finally visited her.

A man in the form of the judge of their village came to her with black eyes, telling her that her thirst for revenge would be sated at the price of her soul. So she obliged.

With the help of the demon, the witch cast a curse on her husband to transform him into the dog that he is. His transformation would be slow, and would eat at his soul and humanity slowly as the days past. The curse made the Beast immortal, besides a few weaknesses that burned impure things (salt, silver, etc), but as long as the Beasts' body remained, so did the man's soul. It would remain trapped in that body, somewhere locked deep inside – not able to move on and rest.

It was a cruel and truly wicked curse.

Ten years later, the widowed witch died. Her death matched the victims of her husband, so no one suspected anything funny when her body turned up torn completely apart in a pool of her own blood. Her soul left to blister in the bowels of Hell.

But of course this was just what John Winchester had heard. It was the legend that made the most sense to him, so that was the tale he copied into his journal to leave for his sons.

However, John Winchester took the Beast out years ago – when Sam and Dean were very young, in fact.

But maybe there was another beast. Maybe the witch made two, because now John Winchester's sons Sam and Dean were in Wisconsin because the brutal slaughters had started up again a few months ago. Witnesses said they saw a Beast, and it was described exactly like the Beast in John's journal was.

Police had scoured every inch of those woods and never once saw any such creature. So of course they assumed that the survivors of the attacks were nuts.

But Sam and Dean knew better.

In the woods, Dean took the lead holding his rifle at the ready while Sam brought up the rear holding a small silver plated dagger close to his chest.

It was a bit difficult however, because there was no moon in the sky to light their way. They couldn't see so well in the pitch black darkness of the woods, so they crept slowly.

They knew this wasn't a werewolf. Hell, it wasn't even similar to a werewolf (werewolves didn't grow wolf hair). So of course it wasn't bound by the moon either. The most recent attack was two days ago.

But now it was getting rather late, and the boys had been out in these woods since the sun went down hours ago. So of course Dean heard about it.

"If this thing hasn't popped out by now," Sam whispered in a whine, "I doubt it will at all."

"Nah, Kujo's out here." Dean muttered surely.

"What makes you say that?" Sam demanded in a hushed tone followed by an impatient eye-roll.

"Look down." Dean instructed simply, nodding toward the cluttered woods ground.

Sam chanced a quick look at his feet and scrunched up his face in disgust. The ground was already so squishy from the rain; he hadn't noticed the difference when he stepped in the Beasts' last meal…or its remains anyway.

Under Sam's feet lay a large pool of blood, darkening the dead leaves that littered the ground already. And directly next to his right boot lay a white hand with a wedding ring placed neatly on its finger.

"Great. Thanks for the warning." Sam said sarcastically as he shifted his gaze to his brothers' back.

Dean smirked in silent satisfaction, but didn't turn around to share the look with his brother.

Both Dean and Sam suddenly came to an abrupt halt when a low feral growl was heard around them. Dean pointed his rifles toward the shadows in front of him, but couldn't make out what he was aiming at. He didn't want to shoot just yet; he had to reserve his ammunition.

Sam on the other hand, tightened his hand around the handle of the silver-plated dagger.

The growls suddenly stopped, but was followed by a scrape in the brush directly behind Sam, causing the brothers to whirl around to face their hidden opponent.

"It's toying with us." Sam commented in a hushed whisper.

Dean didn't respond as he cocked his rifle, signaling to the monster that was watching them that he was ready for it.

"Come on, ya son-of-a-bitch." Dean muttered to himself.

In the brush directly in front of them, a pair of bright feral looking golden canine eyes glared at them as if it were evaluating its prey.

Sam and Dean couldn't see anything else besides its eyes, but that was enough for Dean.

Dean suddenly fired multiple shots in the spot where the Beasts eyes had been. But once the shots came to a halt, the brothers took a look at the bushes and saw that the pair of eyes were gone.

And Dean had to reload.

"Damnit!" Dean cried as he lowered his weapon, and skillfully reloaded it with haste.

"What happened to reserving your ammunition, Dean?" Sam asked suddenly alarmed as the deep harsh growling returned.

"I thought I had it! It was right there!" Dean yelled, defending himself.

At that moment was when the Beast decided it was going to strike. It took a running start on two legs directly into Dean, knocking him to the ground with ease, and sending his weapon flying.

Dean landed on the ground with a loud '_OOF!_' as the Beast began to tear into his back with its sharp front claws.

"Dean!" Sam cried with worry as he ran to where the Beast held his brother.

Without much thought, Sam plunged his dagger directly into the Beasts' shoulder. It surely wouldn't kill him, but it would stun him.

The Beast reared its head back and howled loudly in apparent pain as the raw skin surrounding the blade that was lodged in its skin started to blister and crackle as steam rose from it…as if the silver burned it.

That was good to know, Sam noted to himself silently.

Sam figured he would pull the blade from the Beasts' shoulder blade, and then aim it directly at its heart in one swift motion – then that'd be that.

He saw the recognition in Dean's pain-filled gaze as he too understood what Sam was about to do.

Sam nodded to himself in encouragement, and then bravely pulled the dagger from the Beasts' shoulder.

But in that moment when the blade was dislodged from its shoulder, the Beast roared in anger and then turned around and struck Sam with such ferocity it surprised him. This wasn't just a wild animal, but something evil.

The Beast was now on top of Sam, looking down at its new prey with a gaze of joy almost. Then it leaned its head in and opened its jaws wide.

In that moment, Sam lifted his arm to shield the Beasts' white fanged mouth from his face. And then he felt its teeth pierce his flesh beneath his long-sleeved shirt and jacket.

Sam screamed in obvious pain as the Beast opened its jaws again and nosed past Sam's wounded arm, and bit hard into Sam's left shoulder – he was then rewarded in another scream from his prey.

At the sound of his brothers' second scream, Dean sprang into motion. He lifted the silver-plated knife Sam had dropped, and then lunged at the Beast on top of his brother.

Without even having to think about it, the dagger slid smoothly into the Beasts' chest plate, and penetrated its heart. Dean felt it with a sick pleasure he almost hated to admit.

The Beast didn't have time to howl in pain or even release Sam's shoulder from its hard bite. It just collapsed all of its deadweight on top of Sam.

Now Sam wasn't a small man, Dean knew. On the contrary, Sam came in at a whopping six foot three. Where Dean only came in at six foot. But the Beast was taller than Sam by at least three or four inches.

Not wasting any more time and ignoring the harsh scratches on his back, Dean shoved the dead beast off his brother and saw that Sam was remarkably still conscious.

If you could call that conscious, Dean thought to himself. His eyes were open at least, but it looked like maybe Sam wasn't with him. Like the lights were on, but no one was home.

"Sam!" Dean called as he helped Sam up into a sitting position as he looked at his wounded arm and shoulder which weren't that bad either, strangely.

Dean rolled up Sam's sleeve and noticed with wide-eyes that the wound was barely bleeding. Well…maybe his brothers' many layers softened the blows, Dean thought to himself.

Surely his shoulder would be worse.

Dean then pulled back the collar of Sam's shirts and jacked and saw that, that wound also seemed pretty small. Not even medical-attention worthy.

Maybe all those years at Stanford had softened his brother more than he thought.

But it still didn't explain why Sam was caked with blood on his clothes and face.

Dean smacked Sam's face lightly and called his name again sounding more urgent. This time, to Dean's relief, Sam responded with some weary blinks and a groan.

"You alright, dude?" Dean questioned worriedly.

Sam looked down at the dead Beast at his side, and nudged Dean with a surprised look on his face.

Dean looked down at what Sam was looking at, and could hardly believe his eyes.

There, where he left the wolf-like creature just moments ago, now lay a dead, bloody, very human looking naked petite young woman with long blond locks caressing her curves down to her buttocks.

"What the hell?" Dean muttered to himself as he found he couldn't pull his eyes away from the dead woman.

What just happened?

* * *

_Okay, I wanna get a couple things straight before I go any further. Haha. _

_1. I will still be continuing with my other stories. Yes, i know I shouldn't have started another one when I have 3 still in the works, but I couldn't help myself. _

_2. This is me as the author we're talkin' about folks, so this is mostly a Sam-centric fic. BUT...I've gotten some requests strangely to write some Limp!Sam. So I've delivered folks. This story is gonna be mainly Limp/Hurt!Sam. :D_

_3. This is a were!chester fic. (I know, I've written like 3 - but I love them so much, I can't help it!) But it's not like my other ones actually...has anyone reading this ever seen Ginger Snaps? Yeah...it'll sorta be like that. Sorta...again this is me as a writter so I'm gonna throw you off somehow. :)_

_4. This is set in early season 2, but this is an AU where John is still alive somehow...I'll leave the why up to your own imagination unless I feel like touching on that a little later. :D_

_Questions? Comments? Tell me what you think! _


	2. Bite To Break Skin

_Chapter 2_

* * *

Dean had gathered Sam, and managed to get his little brother to his feet with little trouble. Sam was dizzy, but otherwise fine for all intents and purposes besides the minor wounds on his arm and shoulder.

Dean scattered quickly, snapping a photo of the dead woman at their feet with his camera phone before disposing of her body by salting and burning it.

Sam gathered the dropped rifle, and then the two brothers walked through the woods in the direction they had come from to get back to the Impala.

"You alright?" Dean asked Sam continuously as they hiked through the woods.

"Fine." Sam would lie every time.

If he were being honest, he would have told Dean that the bite marks _burned_. And it wasn't a good burn from working out, but an almost acidic burn. And what scared him more, was that the burn in his shoulder and arm were traveling quickly through his body, through his blood.

After a few moments the burn completely radiated his kneecaps, and he had to bite his lower lip to keep from groaning when the burn reached his heart.

This obviously wasn't his night, he thought to himself when he looked over at Dean with bleary eyes to see that his brother saw his clear discomfort.

"Did that thing get you worse than I thought?" Dean asked Sam worriedly.

"No." Sam replied quickly, "I'll be alright. Let's just get back to the motel so we can clean these wounds up. I just wanna go to sleep."

Dean nodded in understanding, then turned his gaze to the path ahead of them.

"Tomorrow morning we're headed to Bobby's. He says he's got another job for us."

Another wave of vertigo ripped through his brain, and Sam stagged backward for a moment – his glossy eyes looking off into space. Dean noticed his brother wasn't walking beside him anymore and looked back in time to see Sam nearly hit the ground.

Dean reached out instinctively and caught his brother before he took a nose-dive. His hands gripped Sam's chest, helping him up to his feet.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dean chanted worriedly, "This isn't 'fine', little brother."

In response, Sam only managed to groan deep in his throat. It took him a moment to gather his bearings, but after a little while Dean finally let Sam walk on his own…though he kept hovering over him protectively in case he fell again.

Finally after a while, Sam and Dean finally reached the side of the road where the Impala was parked neatly just on the outskirts of the woods.

Without wasting a moment, Sam got in through the passengers' door and sat in his usual seat. He tossed the rifle in his hands in the backseat while Dean got in through the drivers' door – grunting as the friction of his clothes as he sat down rubbed against his wounded back.

At that moment, Sam couldn't help but feel guilty. Dean was injured too, but Sam couldn't take care of him as well as himself.

Just then, the burn that was scorching his insides nearly blinded him as it reached behind his eyes and into his brain.

This time he couldn't suppress the gasp of pain, or his hands as the heels aimed directly toward his eyeballs to try and ease the pain. But it didn't help.

"Sam!" Dean called in worry as he held Sam's shoulder, forgetting it was the injured one.

All that did was send another wave of pain through Sam's body causing him to convulse against his seat for a moment before blackness claimed his vision and he fell into unconsciousness, happily.

**xXx**

_Sam somehow knew he was dreaming. He absolutly had to be. His conscious mind wouldn't torture his eyes this way. _

_His consept of colors was a little askew as he looked around the wooded area he had actually just come from with his brother. Everything around him seemed to have a golden tint, and his vision was somewhat tunneled –yet at the same time more defined. _

_He knew it was dark out, he looked up and could see the bright crescent moon above his head peaking just through the trees…but along with colors, his sense of light and dark also seemed a bit off. He remembered when he was in the woods earlier with his brother, how they could barely see an inch in front of their noses. Now Sam could see as clear as day. _

_Dreams were weird that way, Sam guessed. _

_The woods floor was even somewhat different, Sam noted with great interest. In this dream, the dry broken dead leaves scattered atop the dirt and grass, and beneath the leaves – in the dirt, Sam could feel the tiny movements and even hear the scuttering of the insects around him. _

_His whole body seemed different in this dream, Sam thought to himself with a tingle of delight as he wriggled his toes, and found it to be a much more complicated task than it should have been. _

_Confused, Sam looked down at his feet and saw that in that instant certain aspects of the dream changed at the same time. _

_As he looked at his feet a couple of things registered with his brain in that moment. One, he was looking down at a long muzzle covered in thin dark fur, like a dog, with a black wet nose on the end of it. And two, he wasn't looking at feet, but a strange mix between feet and paws that could carry him on two legs as well as four. _

_His eyes widened and panic seized him in a vice-grip. Why was he seeing through the creatures eyes?_

_Sam then lifted his head to yell, but instead to his horror it came out as a loud inhuman howl that sent chills down his spine. _

_He then caught a slight motion out of the corner of his right eye, and whipped his head around to take a look at what was stalking him. _

_His heart jumped in his throat when he saw that it was the blond girl the Beast had turned into after he and Dean killed it. Only this time she looked alive and healthy and vibrant, although still naked – Sam realized a little embarrassed. _

_She looked at him without fear, but with sorrow – like it pained her to see this creature. _

_Sam wanted to ask her who she was, but found he could only make a dog-like grunt. _

_"Elizabeth." The woman answered anyway as if she understood what Sam was asking. _

_He staggered backward, taken aback that she had seemingly read his mind. _

_The woman than offered a guilty half smile, that looked almost grateful. After a moment her smile dropped and she looked back at Sam with the same sorrowful expression as before. _

_"This is a truly terrible fate to suffer." Elizabeth whispered as a tear spilled from her eye and down her cheek, "And by saving me you have condemned yourself to the same fate." _

_Sam whimpered involuntarily, and silenced himself instantly upon hearing the pathetic noise he had made. _

_"I'm sorry." She whispered brokenly. _

_Then suddenly, Elizabeth was gone. She left Sam alone in the woods in this…shape. He whipped his head around and turned his body, but found that he was truly alone. _

_He then couldn't suppress the anguish-filled howl that ripped through his chest, and erupted from his mouth. _

**xXx**

Sam let out a loud gasp as he awoke with a jolt from his dream. Immediately he noticed that he was in the passengers' seat of the Impala with his head pressed against the glass of the window. The tree-filled scenery around him flying by.

The early morning sun was just peaking through the blur of trees, and Sam sat up in his seat and stretched his long back out uncomfortably.

"What time is it?" Sam wondered out loud as he glanced at Dean who was behind the wheel looking rather tense.

"Half past six." Dean replied in a hoarse voice, "You've been out all night."

Sam nodded and then looked down at his lap, but his attention was then drawn to his arm where he had been bitten. He was now in a gray short sleeved shirt, and could clearly see that Dean had taken the liberty of patching him up while he was out.

"What about your back?" Sam asked worriedly.

"It's fine." Dean replied bluntly.

"Bull." Sam argued.

"Seriously!"

"No, next rest-stop you'd better stop." Sam quipped back.

"No need." Dean said sharply.

"Dean-" Sam was about to snap, before Dean cut him off.

"We're almost at Bobby's."

"How are we almost at Bobby's?" Sam asked even though he knew the answer, "After you patched me up, we just tucked tail and booked?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders then winced as if the motion had hurt him, so then nodded.

"You've been driving all night?" Sam asked angrily.

Dean didn't answer, he didn't even shake his head to signify that he had heard his brother. He just kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of them intently.

Sam shook his head at his brothers' stupidity, but turned his head to look out his window.

His mind went back to the dream he had. Was there any truth behind it? Probably not the turning into a wolf part, Sam thought to himself with a shadow of a smile on his face. But about that girl. He decided he would look up an 'Elizabeth's' going missing in the area, but that was the best he could do.

Last night was definitely a weird hunt, Sam decided. Not so much the hunt itself, but the after-effects.

Sam couldn't help but flinch at the thought of the burn that had ripped through his body the night before. It was so intense, he had to wonder where it came from. But whatever it was, he was glad it was gone when he woke up.

"You okay?" Dean asked suddenly, startling Sam from his thoughts.

Sam looked back over toward his brother and nodded in reply.

In truth, he had a strange throbbing pain in the base of his spine. It felt like he had been kicked awfully hard in his lower back, though he knew no one had.

He shifted his position in his seat but it didn't help. Sam shrugged it off however, and chalked it up to sleeping sitting up for too long.

"Don't worry, we're almost at Bobby's." Dean reassured his brother in a harsh tone.

"I'm fine!" Sam snapped, "_You_ on the other hand…"

"I'll be okay, Sam." Dean quipped irritably, "Please just don't worry about it."

"The second we get to Bobby's I'm patching you up." Sam said simply.

"Fine." Dean muttered with an eye-roll.

Sam took in a deep breath to attempt to calm his raging nerves but found it didn't help. He didn't know why he was so angry at Dean. It wasn't like he hadn't pulled a stunt like this before.

But Sam did realize that he felt a little different this morning. It wasn't anything physical, but something had opened up inside his brain – a rage that felt alien to him, a presence that wasn't there when he went to sleep.

Something wild.

In honesty, it scared the crap out of him.

But then Sam would be lying if he said it wasn't axhilarating…that he didn't _like_ it.


	3. Changes

_Chapter 3_

* * *

Dean slowed the Impala into a crawl as they reached Bobby's house. He turned his car into the dirt and rock covered driveway, before shutting the car off – parking behind Bobby's old blue pick-up truck with dark orange rusted spots on the hood and on the drivers' side door.

With a content sigh, Dean retrieved the key from the ignition, and shoved it in his leather jacket pocket.

Sam and Dean then got out of the car and closed their doors behind them as they stood upright; neither of them have spoken to each other since Sam demanded he fix his brothers' wounds.

The brothers walked up the driveway toward the house, when they heard loud canine whimpers coming from around the front of Bobby's pick-up truck.

Sam's eyebrows knit together in confusion as he glanced over at Dean was mirroring the look. Then without hesitation, they crept around the truck to get a look at what was making the noise.

To their surprise it was a rather large Rottweiler puppy chained to the hood of the blue truck by his collar. But what was weird, that at the sight of Sam – the black dog with brown patched fur stopped whimpering and started full on howling.

"Didn't know Bobby got a new dog." Dean whispered to Sam thoughtfully as he reached out to pat its head.

The dog quieted a little and accepted Dean's hand, albeit hesitantly. Dean patted its head quickly, before turning to Sam.

Sam shrugged and reached his hand out to do the same, when the Rottweiler opened its jaws suddenly and damn near bit his fingers off. Sam withdrew his hand quickly and glared down at the dog angrily as it resumed its loud howling.

"Guess it doesn't like you." Dean said with a tiny smirk on his face as he left the dog and continued walking up toward the house.

Sam shrugged and followed in step.

Upon hearing the howls, the front door of the house opened, and Bobby stepped outside with his arms crossed over his chest looking slightly unimpressed.

The gruff red plaid wearing hunter eyed the boys suspiciously before speaking.

"You boys antagonizing my dog now?"

When Sam and Dean approached Bobby, Dean put on a phony offended expression across his face.

"Blame him," Dean replied pointing to his taller younger brother, "I guess the mutt just doesn't like him."

"He went berserk for no reason." Sam elaborated with an eye-roll.

As if to prove a point, the dogs howls grew louder.

"Cohan! Quit it!" Bobby yelled at the dog.

Immediately, upon hearing Bobby's voice the Rottweiler quieted down and lowered its head onto its front paws in defeat – still whimpering, but that was easier to ignore.

"Come on in." Bobby invited as he turned and walked back into the house, holding the door open for the boys.

They walked past him, and entered his dimly lit living room happily. Behind Sam, Bobby closed the front door before locking it carefully.

"So, you got a job for us?" Dean asked not bothering to waste any time.

"First things first." Sam interrupted as he walked behind Dean and started to peel his brothers' leather jacket off him.

"I got it!" Dean snapped impatiently as he shrugged painfully out of the leather jacket.

He handed Sam the jacket, and rolled his eyes.

Sam placed the jacket on the arm of the couch, and then returned to take a closer look at Dean's back through his shirt.

When the jacket was off, there was nothing to hid the large spots of blood on the back of his dark blue shirt.

"What's up?" Bobby asked curiously as he eyed the brothers warily.

"Dean got hurt on the last hunt and didn't bother patching himself up before driving across an entire state to get here." Sam explained grudgingly.

"I would have if someone didn't pass out on me." Dean muttered as he took a seat on Bobby's couch.

"Sam passed out?" Bobby asked.

Sam nodded before disappearing into the kitchen.

When neither of them made a move to explain what they were talking about, Bobby stepped in demanding answers.

"You boys wanna tell me 'bout this last hunt or what?"

Not seeing a way around it, Dean rolled his eyes and went into the story of their last hunt as Sam came back into the room with Bobby's First Aid kit and sat on the couch next to his brother.

Dean explained to Bobby about the creature they hunted that strangely resembled a half-man, half-wolf hybrid. At first Bobby looked incredulous because he knew John had taken out The Beast of Bray Road years ago.

But then Dean continued and said when the Beast was stabbed and definitely dead…it turned into a blond female.

Bobby knew the story in John's journal just as well (if not better) than the boys did. So he knew that The Beast of Bray Road was a man.

"What the hell?" Bobby muttered.

"I took a picture of her to see if we can see who she is." Dean offered as he peeled off his shirt so his brother could better access his wounds. He hissed between his teeth as the pain of the claw marks made it awkward to remove his shirt.

There were five vertical dark read lines going down Dean's back. They were thick, and were only starting to scab over Sam noted as he looked at Dean's blood blotched shirt he had just removed from his body.

"Takin' pictures of dead naked chicks?" Bobby asked Dean with a teasing glint in his eyes, "New fetish?"

"Oh come on!" Dean exclaimed, obviously not finding Bobby's joke humorous, "It's a picture from the neck up!"

Bobby chuckled, and looked over at Sam who was biting his lower lip to keep himself from laughing out loud.

As Sam took a small white cloth and soaked it in Hydrogen Peroxide, Bobby took Dean's phone and looked at the picture of the girl curiously.

Dean muttered a soft 'ow!' after Sam placed the cloth on the harsh red marks.

"Any way you can send this to me?" Bobby asked curiously.

Dean nodded and took back his phone looking irritated. Bobby knew he was irritated at his brother for rubbing the deep red scratches with the cloth.

Bobby then crossed his arms over his chest as he examined the Winchester brothers a little quizzically as Sam continued to bite his lower lip while he cleaned the wounds.

But something obviously bothered him about this scene, because his eyes kept drawing back to Sam.

"Boy, answer this…" Bobby said to Sam calmly, "how is it you got bit by this thing…_twice_ and walk away with barely a scratch; where Dean here got himself torn a new one?"

Sam looked at Bobby pointedly, and shrugged. In all honesty he didn't know why he was still alive, or why he barely bled. He felt the creatures fangs bite _hard_ into his arm, and even harder into his neck.

"I don't know." He replied honestly.

And he didn't appreciate being cornered that way, the _thing_ in his mind added lightly with a soft growl.

"The way Dean described it you should've needed a good bandage change by now. It wouldn't have just stopped bleeding with one layer of gauze." Bobby said in an almost accusing manor.

"You didn't even need stitching." Dean grunted as Sam pulled the cloth in his hand away from his back as if he had been burned.

"What do you want me to say?" Sam snapped as he shot to his feet so he could tower over Bobby and Dean.

"Let me see your arm." Bobby requested hesitantly.

"There's no need!" Sam yelled defensively as he cradled his bandaged arm close to his chest protectively.

"Sam this is stupid! Just let Bobby see your friggin' arm, ya big baby!" Dean demanded impatiently.

Sam turned to Dean and lowered his head before actually growling at him angrily. Dean then stood from the couch as his eyes scanned Sam's dark face with clear confusion as well as looking a bit offended.

"Did you just growl at me, dude?" Dean asked increduosly.

Sam then rightened his head and looked back at his brother with a somewhat soulful expression.

"N-no." Sam stuttered.

And that was good enough for Bobby as he made a swift grab at Sam's injured arm and began tearing off the bandaging.

Sam looked at Bobby with a furious glare as he made an instinctual grab for one of Bobby's wrists.

Bobby gasped in obvious pain as Sam only tightened his grip with a sick sort of sadistic smile on his face.

Without even thinking twice about it, Dean suddenly punched Sam in the face causing his little brother to grunt as he released Bobby's hand and staggered backwards into the couch.

Bobby wasted no more time as he made a dive for Sam and tore off the remaining bandages from his arm.

He pulled away with the white dressings still in his hands and a look of shock on his aged face. Dean looked down at his brothers' arm as if it were a snake about to strike.

There was no blood, and no wound. His arm was completely healed. In fact, it looked as if nothing had ever penetrated his flesh in that area.

"Told you there was no need." Sam muttered in a deep angry voice.

"No need?" Bobby asked somewhat taken aback.

"Do you even get it, Sam?" Dean demanded softly as if his voice were beginning to fail him.

"No, enlighten me!" Sam snapped with a smug smile on his face.

"You were bitten last night…and now there's no wound." Bobby offered.

"So what?" Sam asked as his expression looked slightly more humored, "You think this is like a werewolf deal? I'm gonna change, am I? Good thing there's no full moon."

"Really Sam?" Dean asked his brother angrily as it seemed Sam still didn't get it, "There wasn't a full moon last night either! Remember? You were the one to tell me that!"

Anger still flowing fresh through Dean, he leaned over into his little brother and tore the bandaging from his shoulder where he had placed it neatly over the wound.

But upon shedding the white gauze, and pulling back the collar of Sam's shirt forcefully…he noticed that Sam's shoulder, like his arm was bare as well. No blood, no wound, and no indication that there had ever _been_ a wound there.

Dean dropped the useless gauze to the floor and backed away from Sam slowly. His eyes fixed on his little brother with a look of fear, guilt, and anger.

At seeing Dean's expression, Sam's features slowly shifted. His eyes widened as realization crumbled down upon him. Then after the thoughts raged through his mind, his face twisted into an expression of horror. His eyes looked bright and sad as they held unshed tears.

"What's gonna happen?" Sam asked quietly. His demeanor had completely changed over the course of two minutes, "A-am I gonna change?"

Bobby scratched the back of his head absently trying to think of what they were going to do, but was at a loss. The Beast of Bray Road wasn't a werewolf, everyone knew that. What it was, was a curse.

So maybe that was it, Bobby thought to himself silently. Maybe like a werewolf curse, this demons curse can spread through a bite.

That would explain why there was this one after John had taken out the one. Maybe the Beast that John had killed, had infected another before it died.

And that also explained why Cohen had reacted to badly to Sam upon first meeting him. Dogs had a very sharp sense of the paranormal.

Dread spread through Bobby at the thought. From what Sam and Dean had said, the Beast that they just hunted had no sembience of human emotion. It was pure evil.

Was that going to happen to Sam?

There was no way they could be sure without doing research first, Bobby decided.

"We gotta do research on The Beast of Bray Road," Bobby announced to the boys as he desperately tried to keep his emotions in check, "That's the only way we can know for sure what's going on."

* * *

_I think there's something funny going on with the site guys. I went to re-read this chapter so I could write the next, and it looked as if I hadn't edited this page. It angered me. Haha. _

_Sorry about the mix-up! :)_

_This story is gonna be very different from my other were!chester fics, guys. All my other ones, what I like to do is look for the 'good' or I guess the humanity in lycanthropy. But this time around...I want this thing to be a ravenous monster. I think it's about time we had one of those fics, don't you think? :)_


	4. Screwed

_Chapter 4_

* * *

Neither Sam nor Dean had made any sort of eye contact in the last few hours. The sun had gone down a couple minutes ago, but no one seemed to notice as they kept busy doing research with just as much steam as they had hours ago.

Bobby was in the kitchen on the phone with an old friend of his trying to see if his friend could get them any sort of information about The Beast of Bray Road; the old white corded phones spiraled wire wrapping around his knees.

Dean sat at Bobby's desk in his library skimming through an old looking book with pages yellowing from age, about legends and myths. He had found something about The Beast, but it seemed pretty vague.

Sam sat in a pretty uncomfortable wooden chair with his laptop propped neatly on his lap as his eyes scanned the site he was currently on half-heartedly. Needless to say, he hadn't found anything new either.

Everything they did find was all pretty much the same. Basically all it said was that in some parts of Wisconsin, people reported seeing a Beast that stood on two legs, but had a wolf's head and was covered in fur. The sightings were pretty accurate, Dean had to admit. Almost all of the people who reported seeing the creature described it in the same way…which was pretty close.

But that didn't help them when they were looking more in depth. They needed to know about the witch that cursed the man. They needed her name, they needed his name…they needed to know the specifics of the curse. Would it change Sam, like Bobby feared?

Deep down, Sam really did believe so. How else could he possibly explain the thing that whispered things to him in a deep corner of his mind. It started to scare him a little though when he thought about it. He the wild presence inside him grow stronger slowly, but steadily.

He was too scared to tell Dean and Bobby though. He was afraid of what they would think of him.

At that moment, there was the sound of a loud 'click' as Bobby hung up the phone in the kitchen. He cursed as he untangled himself from the cord around his knees and in moments he was walking into the library with a sheet of paper clutched in his hand.

Dean looked up from the book curiously and looked at Bobby.

"What's going on, Bobby?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Just got off the phone with an old friend," Bobby informed as he held up the piece of paper in his hand with his handwriting on it, "he gave me a list of names of women in that area of Wisconsin that were alive in that era. He's sure that one of 'em is our witch."

"Well that's something." Dean muttered sarcastically with an eye-roll.

"I know," Bobby agreed, "but at least it's a start."

"Bobby these women lived years ago. How are we gonna do background checks? There's probably no way in hell there's even records of some of these people." Sam interjected sounding slightly irritated.

"True," Bobby agreed, "but according to legend, the witch made a deal with a demon…so I'm sure it'd be documented which of these women were mauled to death."

"Yeah, but a lot of people got mauled to death around that time because of her husband." Dean cut in.

"I know that, boy." Bobby said with an eye-roll, "But it'll narrow the list down at least."

"How many names are on the list?" Sam wondered out loud.

"Seventy two." Bobby replied flatly.

"That's really not that many." Sam noted slightly taken aback.

"This was a different time, boy." Bobby said with a humorless chuckle, "Disease was big, and there medicine wasn't as advanced."

Sam knew this of course, but didn't say anything. He only nodded before Bobby handed him the paper. Sam took it albeit hesitantly, but once in his hands he scanned his eyes over the names silently before turning back to his laptop. Maybe something would pop up on the internet about any of the women…though he doubted it.

"I've also gotten Ellen, Jo, and Ash looking for answers." Bobby added as he turned and headed toward the chair in the corner of the room and took a seat.

"Do they know about me?" Sam asked trying to hide his rising anger.

The less people who knew about this the better. He wasn't some sideshow freak to be gawked at, and he didn't appreciate being treated as such.

"No," Bobby replied honestly, "but they're not stupid. They're gonna want to know _why_ they're looking into this…Sam they can be trusted."

And he knew that, Sam thought to himself. But at the moment, reason seemed lost to him as the foreign being in his mind pawed its way to the surface.

And then suddenly he wanted to know what Bobby's insides would taste like. He wanted it more than anything…his mouth watered at the sheer thought of it, but he held himself back. He couldn't kill Bobby.

The wild presence in his mind howled in defeat, but remained hopful…it was growing stronger. It knew it, and Sam knew it.

And Sam knew it wouldn't be long before the thing took him over completely…then he wouldn't be able to hold himself back.

Oblivious to the mental struggle, Dean and Bobby both held their breath before waiting to see Sam's response.

He persed his lips, and a thin layer of sweat shone on his brow, but he seemed deep in thought with a far off look in his eyes. Was he pondering whether or not Ellen, Jo, and Ash could be trusted? Bobby and Dean had to wonder.

A moment later, Sam blinked and then nodded feverishly.

"You alright?" Dean asked Sam worriedly.

"N-no." Sam replied honestly, his voice raspy as if he were sick.

This was gonna happen again, Sam knew. The thing that was in his mind now was going to continue to fight him for control, and he feared for the people who would get caught in the crossfire when he lost. _When_ he lost.

He knew he had to tell Dean and Bobby about it. He didn't want to…he _really_ didn't want to. But if he wanted any chance of surviving this, Bobby and Dean needed to know as much as he did. That thought made the thing in his mind angry, it didn't want the others to be aware of it.

Sam looked down at his hands shakily, and nearly cried at how wrong they looked. He then balled them into a fist in an attempt to hide their latest development…he would tell Dean about _that_ too, but first thing's first.

Sam swallowed hard as he thought of a way to tell Dean and Bobby about this thing without him sounding completely insane.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked him curiously.

Sam inhaled deeply, and shut his laptop with a light nudge from his fist so there were no distractions. He averted his eyes to the floor, making sure he couldn't see his brothers reaction.

"E-ever since I woke up…I-I dunno, I've just felt different." Sam began with a guilty expression on his face. It was hard for him to go on, but he had to.

"Different how?" Bobby asked patiently.

"It's hard to explain…so just bear with me." Sam warned with a humorless smile. Dean and Bobby nodded in unison, urging him to continue.

"I um…feel this sort of presence, or something in the back of my mind." Sam said a little sheepishly, "And it's only getting stronger and stronger."

"What do you mean by 'presence'?" Dean asked sounding a little skeptical.

"It's like…I'm not alone in my head anymore, Dean." Sam said in a broken whisper, "It's wild and completely untamed…sometimes it fights me for control…like just now."

"What just happened with you going off into La-La-Land?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded, still not looking Dean in the eye.

"But it's getting stronger." Sam added, "One day…I know I won't be able to fight it off anymore."

"So what are you saying?" Bobby asked, his breath hitching on the last word breaking off his question, letting it hang in the air on a pathetic note.

"I'm saying, I think you're right…about me changing." Sam replied in a whisper. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, but he held them there. He refused to show how weak he felt.

"No." Dean said with a stern and disbelieving tone, "You can fight it."

"I can't." Sam replied shakily, "It's already started."

"What are you talkin' about?" Bobby asked curiously, his eyes still wide and his voice contained a certain heartbreak that pulled at Sam's heart-strings.

Sam then inhaled shakily and unballed his tight fists as he held his hands up so Dean and Bobby could get a good look.

Dean leaned in closer with wide-eyes and his mouth slightly agape as he kept his tear-filled eyes on his brothers' hands.

Bobby stared at them out of pure curiosity, but he was a well trained hunter. He his is torment very well.

Sam had noticed it when he had snapped out of his inner struggle with the thing in his head. It wasn't there before then though, Sam knew. He too kept his eyes on his own hands and saw where his normal, blunt fingernails once were; now held darker, thicker, only about an inch or so longer than they were, slightly curved, and _sharp_ claws.

"Son of a…" Dean muttered, but trailed off angrily.

"We're running outta time." Bobby said solemnly.

"I can't fight this thing for very long." Sam announced as a tear finally slipped past his defenses and ran down his cheek, "It's gonna kill me."

"No." Dean said with an intense sterness that sent a cold shiver up Sam's spine, "I won't lose you."

"No Dean," Sam said between a light sob, "I'm screwed."

* * *

_Hehe, I'm so mean to you guys. :)_


	5. Restlessness

_Chapter 5_

* * *

That night Sam Dean and Bobby found it rather difficult to get any sleep, so they spent most of the night doing research.

Well…Dean and Bobby spent most of the night doing research. Sam found himself too easily distracted to concentrate on anything for too long.

Once he showed his hands to his brother and Bobby, they hadn't spoken too much. Sam had reopened his laptop, but couldn't focus on the words on his screen. He would be distracted by a persistent itch on his right knee, and then scratch at the spot which was covered by his jeans with his sharp claws.

He would then take a long look at his hands, and feel dread seep into his mind. Of course this dread caused the animalistic thing in his head to snicker with glee.

And on top of that, the throb at the bottom of his spine had returned with a vengeance causing him to adjust his position in his seat every couple of minutes. This of course earned him pointed glances from Dean, which he would ignore.

But of course Dean had been drawn from his reading every couple of minutes to sneak a glance at Sam…though Sam noticed it every time and it nearly drove him crazy.

Bobby on the other hand would look up from his work to give Dean a silent warning glare, which Sam was grateful for but didn't say anything about it.

Now though, Sam finally had enough. He sighed and closed his laptop forcefully, earning him a curious gaze from both Dean and Bobby.

"What's goin' on?" Bobby prodded.

"Nothin' I just can't keep sitting here doing nothing!" Sam exclaimed louder than he meant to.

"So what are you saying?" Dean asked almost accusingly.

"I just…need some fresh air." Sam replied innocently enough with a deep inhale of breath at the end of his sentence to steady himself.

"The porch is right there, boy." Bobby said as he pointed to the front door, "Take a breather."

"No…I just need to go _do_ something." Sam complained.

"Do something like what?" Dean asked shakily, swallowing down the saliva that had formed in his mouth, nervously.

Sam got to his feet with his laptop in his hands, and then turned to place the computer in his seat. He looked back at Dean, before walking out of the library and into the living room.

Not much to his surprise, not even a second later did he hear a second later he heard a pair of footsteps following close behind him causing the fine hairs on the back of his neck to rise in warning.

He knew it was Dean, but ignored his brothers' presence and gathered his jacket which he had left in a heap on Bobby's couch next to his brothers' brown leather jacket.

"So where you gonna go, Sam?" Dean asked his voice thick with worry, fear, and anger.

Sam turned around to face his brother with an angry glare of his own as he slipped his jacket on quickly.

"I dunno…I'll just go get food or something, Dean. I won't be gone long." Sam responded shakily, trying his best to keep his anger in check so that the _thing_ didn't try to feed off it like it did last time.

Sam noticed that _it_ seemed to like when he was angry.

"Then I'll go with you," Dean said with a shrug, "I'll drive."

"Dean there's no reason why I need a friggin escort!" Sam snapped, shaking his hands in front of him for emphasis. He then took in another deep breath, and looked down at his feet.

Dean on the other hand, kept his eyes fixed on his little brother pointedly.

"We'll either go together, or I go alone. Take your pick." Dean said seriously with a tiny shrug.

Sam looked over toward the threshold into the library where he and Dean had just come from, and saw Bobby standing there leaning against that slab of plaster with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked back at Sam and shrugged, Sam knew that meant Bobby was taking Dean's side.

Sam found himself taking in another deep breath and holding it in his chest for a while before releasing it. He needed to calm down, but it didn't help that Dean and Bobby were treating him like a child.

But Sam found himself needing to get outside and do something, _anything_. It was a kind of restlessness he'd never known before.

Sighing in defeat, Sam looked helplessly toward Dean and walked out the front door, slamming the door shut behind him.

Dean glanced back at Bobby and nodded.

"Be back soon." Dean called to Bobby as he followed his brother out the front door, closing the door much more gently.

Bobby nodded to himself, and then turned back into the library. He looked at the scattered mess of books and papers, and Sam's forgotten laptop that was now sitting in his vacant seat.

He tried not to worry so much, usually whenever one of those Winchester's were in deep; the other would pull them out with his help of course. This was probably just another thing.

But Sam was beginning to make it difficult.

He told them about some sort of presence that resided in the deep crevices of his mind, and admittedly that scared the ever-living hell out of Bobby. Hearing voices alone wasn't a good thing, but feeling its presence…and just knowing that it's living in Sam's mind getting stronger and stronger as the moments passes – it made Bobby sick to his stomach.

Certainly he wasn't alone in that feeling. Dean must have been torturing himself in his own way, because that's just how the kid was. So Bobby decided he would have to buck up and be there for the boys the best he could.

And that was by helping Sam out of this mess…by any means possible.

Even now he had other hunters working on the list he had gotten from his friend Rufus Turner. Rufus was just one of those retired hunters that knew almost everything. How he knew what he knew was beyond Bobby, and he was never one to ask.

So when Bobby got the list of names from Rufus, Rufus took a moral stand and refused to help the case any further. Even though Bobby hadn't given the old hunter any specifics, Rufus already knew what was happening to Sam…which of course had Bobby wondering _what_ Rufus knew.

Did he know _what_ Sam was turning into? Did he know if there was any chance in hell Sam could be saved from this?

Bobby didn't know, and it bothered him that he didn't know. It made him angry that Rufus was clearly holding out on him, and he needed to know what he knew.

At that moment, Bobby's cellphone rang loudly from his pocket. He dove his hand in his jeans for a moment before retrieving his phone.

He looked at the flashing screen and saw that the ID read 'unavailable'.

That could have been any mess of hunters, he knew. So without hesitation, Bobby flipped the cellphone open and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" He asked.

_"Bobby?" _The deep husky voice of John Winchester asked almost nervously.

"John?" Bobby asked, his muscles tightening with surprise, "Where the hell are you?"

_"About twenty minutes from your place," _John replied sounding winded, _"I got a call from a guy named Rufus this morning, saying I'd better come to your place to check on my kid, then he hung up. He didn't say which one, but what's going on?"_

Bobby closed his eyes and sighed. How was he going to get through the thick head of John Winchester? Sam sure picked a hell of a time to go out.

"It's Sam." Bobby said simply.

_"What about Sam?" _John snapped.

"We don't really know John," Bobby said honestly, "he and Dean went chasing after some creature that resembled The Beast of Bray Road that you took out…well it got the drop on Sam, and now…"

Bobby's voice trailed off not knowing how to say what was going on properly.

_"Now what? Bobby, what the hell happened?" _John demanded angrily.

"It's changing him, somehow." Bobby replied.

There was a long silence, in fact – Bobby would have thought John had hung up had he not heard the sound of passing traffic in the background on John's end. He truly was on the road on his way over.

After a moment, John finally responded.

_"I'll be there soon." _

There was a small click before the line went dead.

Bobby pulled his phone away from his face before closing it and shoving it back down into his pocket.

He hoped Dean and Sam get back before John arrived.

**xXx**

Dean was starting to get fed up with Sam's crap now. His hands tightened around to steering wheel till his knuckles turned white as they passed yet another diner.

"I'm gonna pull in here, alright?" Dean had asked when they had gotten to the third diner along the way.

Sam raised his upper lip in disgust, and shook his head.

"No, just keep going."

Dean did as Sam said and didn't even slow the car down and whizzed past the diner.

He glanced over to Sam who was looking out his window with a certain alertness that was pretty un-Sam-like. But Dean turned his eyes back to the road and shut his mouth.

After a few minutes, Sam perked up and looked at Dean with an excited glint in his eyes before looking back out his window.

"Here," Sam said, "pull in here."

Dean looked at the establishment his little brother was pointing to with wide-eyes. Okay, this was _definitely_ un-Sam-like.

Sam was pointing to a small building with a red lit up sign reading, 'Big Red's Bar'.

"Here?" Dean asked skeptically, "You said you wanted food."

"They sell food here." Sam pointed out as he nodded toward the white billboard just beside the entrance to the parking-lot which read, 'Burgers and Fries! Hotdogs and Salads!'

It definitely wasn't a _stable _menu, Dean thought to himself. But obviously judging by the sign it was a _bar_, first and foremost.

Dean grunted in annoyance as he slowed the Impala to a crawl and pulled into the parking-lot. He got a good parking spot right in front of the entrance, and turned the car off.

"What do you want?" Dean asked as he turned his head toward his little brother.

"I'm coming in, Dean. I'll order for myself." Sam replied hotly.

"I don't think that's such a great idea." Dean argued gently as he looked down at Sam's hands which were placed neatly in his lap.

Sam looked down at his hands where his brother was looking, and laughed mirthlessly.

"Dean, no one's gonna be looking at my hands!" Sam yelled, "I mean come on! The whole point of this trip was so I could get out and _do_ something!"

Dean sighed and looked up into Sam's pleading eyes. He never could deny that look, it just killed him.

"Fine," Dean surrendered, "but you don't leave my side. You don't talk to anyone. We'll stay for one round of drinks, then we'll get the food to go. Am I making myself clear?"

"Crystal." Sam agreed with a thankful smile as he opened the car door and got out of the car.

Dean did the same, and once standing outside, both doors slammed closed at the same time. Dean really hoped he wasn't making a mistake here.

Once inside the bar, Dean saw that it was like any other bar he'd been in his entire life. It was pretty crowded and everyone had a drink in their hands. The place reeked of frying food, liquor, and cigarettes. And on the walls were posters and t-shirts advertising the bar and popular beer brands.

Dean and Sam pressed onward through the flocks of people, toward the bar forcefully.

Once there, Dean took a seat on a stool as he agreed to be the one to order the drinks. The other stools were being occupied, so Sam was left to stand behind his brother with an excited grin on his face.

A petite barmaid in a black t-shirt and tight dark jeans stood in front of Dean on the other side of the bar. She batted her thick lashes over her dark eyes at him flirtatiously, and Dean couldn't keep the sly smile from his face.

"What can I get for ya?" She asked in a smooth voice.

Dean looked at her a little harder, and saw that she couldn't have been older than twenty-five. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail on top of her head, but Dean noticed that her long hanging hair bounced every time she moved her head.

Clearly she was into him too. That was okay, Dean decided. Because he really liked her too.

"Two beers." He said simply, offering a flirtatious smile of his own at her.

The woman smiled brightly, and nodded as he ducked down slightly behind the bar and came back up with two cold beers in her hands before placing them on the bar in front of Dean.

"Anything else?" She asked hopefully.

"Got a name?" Dean asked coyly.

"Misty, you?"

"Dean."

"Well," Misty said in a confident tone, "wanna stick around for a little while? You're the most interesting person to walk through that door all night."

Dean nearly laughed, he really wanted to stay and see where things could go with Misty, here. But he knew he couldn't.

"I wish I could…but I gotta be getting back to my brother." Dean explained a little sadly.

"Well then, Dean it was nice meeting you." Misty said playfully, in clear hopes that he would reconsider.

Dean smiled and grabbed the beers before sliding off the barstool.

He turned around with the beers in his hands and his heart nearly skipped a beat as fear held his gut in a vice-grip.

Where the hell had Sam gone?

* * *

_Oh dear...what have I done now? :)_


	6. That's Not Very Sammy Like

_Chapter 6_

* * *

Dean wove his way through the crowds of people inside the bar in a rush with a look of pure desperation in his eyes as he frantically searched for Sam. After coming up empty in the throes of people, he made his way back to the bar to talk to Misty.

She looked up and saw him, and her smile immediately dropped the moment she saw how panicked he looked.

"The taller guy I was with," Dean motioned with his head, "that was my brother, did you by any chance see which way he went?"

Misty shrugged as she pulled a small shot-glass on the table and began to fill it.

"No, sorry." She replied honestly, "This is a bar, dear. After a while people who don't really make a lasting impression tend to blend into the background. Try asking around though."

Dean swore under his breath, and turned to leave. He pushed his way through a crowd of people walking through the front door and finally made his way outside.

There were a few small groups of people standing outside talking with each other, but Dean didn't see Sam anywhere. It seemed like he just vanished.

On a whim, Dean pulled out his cellphone, and dialed his brothers' number feverishly before resting the phone against his face as he listened to the line connect.

It went to voicemail.

"Damnit!" Dean swore as he closed his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

After about an hour of searching the premises, it was apparent that Sam was no longer there. Something must have happened to him…was he kidnapped again?

But then again, Dean reminded himself as he got in the drivers' seat of the Impala; Sam's been acting awfully funny lately. Very un-Sam-like in fact…maybe he just left?

Dean wasn't really sure, but he started the Impala and without wasting any more time he drove all the way back to Bobby's so he could get together a search party.

Sam was dead-meat, Dean promised as he banged his hands against the steering wheel in frustration.

**xXx**

Almost a half an hour later, Dean pulled up to the front of Bobby's house because he saw with wide-eyes that he couldn't park in the driveway as he had before. He couldn't park in the driveway because that spot was not being occupied by a black truck that looked strikingly similar to his father – John Winchester's truck.

Dean parked the Impala and turned it off. He stared at the truck for a moment and gulped in nervousness. It was one thing to tell Bobby that he lost Sam, but it was another thing entirely to tell his father. His father whom he had promised to protect Sam to.

Fantastic, Dean thought to himself sarcastically as he opened the door and got out of the car. He closed the door behind him, and walked up Bobby's driveway past the slick black and then the rusted blue truck.

On his way to the front door he paused and looked down at the now sleeping Rottweiler dog, Bobby called Cohan. He didn't seem bothered at all by Dean, which of course he found slightly unnerving.

What did the dog sense about Sam?

As a chill crept up his spine, Dean thought it best to get in the house and deal with the yelling that would come his way as soon as possible. So he continued moving.

He reached the front door and let himself in without knocking, and sure enough waiting on the couch in the living room for his return was his father looking worried actually with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands beneath his scruffy chin.

The moment Dean closed the door behind him; John was on his feet and pulled Dean in for a hug, which Dean returned.

"Hey son." John murmured into Dean's shoulder.

Dean nodded, not finding the strength to reply. Where this under different circumstances, Dean would have been happy and relieved to see his father. But not now, now he was terrified.

After a moment John and Dean broke away, and Dean noticed at that moment that Bobby had entered the room with his arms crossed over his chest looking at Dean curiously.

"Where's Sam?" Bobby asked.

Dean swallowed hard, not being able to find his voice in that moment. How could he possibly voice this? It was tearing him up inside, he didn't want to disappoint his father.

John's eyes hardened in that moment at Dean's lack of a response as he glared down at him.

"Dean," John said in an demanding tone, "where's your brother?"

Dean blinked slowly and took in a deep steadying breath as he faced his father.

"We went to this bar a couple miles from here…and I told Sam that we'd have a quick round, then bring the food back here, but he had to stay by my side." Dean began honestly, "He went up to the bar with me, and when I turned around with the beers, he was gone."

"Gone?" John asked rhetorically, frustration clear on his face.

Dean didn't reply, instead he hung his head in defeat – waiting for his father to start yelling, waiting for the _look_ he was sure his father would give him because of his failure.

Seeing the lost look on Dean's face, and John's rising temper – Bobby saw no choice but to step in between them with a levelheadedness that was definitely welcome in their awkward stance.

"Don't worry," Bobby said to Dean, grabbing him by the collar of his leather jacket and shoving him away from his father gently, "we'll find him. We'll trace his cellphone. He couldn't have gotten too far."

Obviously accepting that, both Dean and John nodded in agreement. Bobby was right; he couldn't have gone too far.

Dean stifled a bought of hysterical nervous laughter as he scrubbed his hand down his face. Trust Bobby to be the voice of reason when Sam's not there.

"Before we get your brother," John interjected, his voice still rough with anger, "I want someone to tell me why the hell I'm here. What's going on with him?"

"I already told you." Bobby said with a shrug.

"Sammy and I went hunting in Wisconsin…it was this half-dog, half-human looking thing. It was like how you described The Beast of Bray Road in your journal." Dean began honestly, figuring it would only be best to let his father know everything they did, "Well we killed it with a silver-plated dagger, but not before it bit Sam – once in his arm, then again in his shoulder."

John nodded, and stiffened his body as he was preparing himself for the worst. He hung on to Dean's every word, trying to catch up with where they were.

"B-but when we got back to the motel room so I could patch his wounds they were almost healed. I mean, there was a lot of blood, but no marks." Dean continued, "That was yesterday."

"So what makes you think he's _changing,_ as Bobby so blatantly put it?" John wondered out loud.

"Watch it, John." Bobby muttered threateningly under his breath.

John ignored Bobby's warning and nodded at Dean, signifying him to continue.

"Today he tells us that there's something in his head or something – I don't really know." Dean said helplessly as he made eye-contact with his father, "He said it was completely untamed and it was fighting him for control…and – a-and it was getting stronger."

John nodded again, following his sons every word.

"And then he showed us his hands." Dean muttered.

"His hands?" John asked, a little angrily because Dean didn't elaborate.

"H-he had claws." Dean whispered, not being able to say it out loud.

"Claws?" John asked wide-eyed. Okay, admittedly that caught him off guard. When Bobby said Sam was 'changing' and then Dean said something about there being something in Sam's head, John thought they meant psychologically or something. He didn't think they meant physically.

"But The Beast wasn't a werewolf." John countered, "It was a man who was under a curse. I mean, when I killed it, it turned back into a man."

"I know that." Dean replied, "But what if the curse can pass from person to person through a bite maybe – like a werewolf. Only unlike a werewolf, it doesn't change the victim once a month but…permanently."

"We've been calling hunters, getting help with research – without explaining Sam's situation." Bobby cut in, "We're looking for the name of the witch who cast the curse to begin with. That way we can maybe try and figure out what the specifics of the curse entail. I mean, the whole Sam turning permanently is just a theory."

"Her name was Elizabeth Godrick." John said completely sure of himself, "I did research before I took the case on, but I couldn't find the specifics of the curse she cast."

"Nothing?" Dean asked sounding devastated.

"No…I tried everything short of summoning a demon for a _friendly_ interrogation." John replied with a mirthless chuckle, "I guess we don't have a choice this time though, huh?"

"Summoning a demon," Bobby muttered to himself, "this won't end well."

"Definitely not." Dean agreed.

"Well first things first," John said a little calmer, "let's get Sam back."

Dean nodded and headed toward the kitchen where Bobby's phone was as he instructed Bobby to boot up his computer so he could see the GPS.

**xXx**

Sam lifted his head from the lumpy and rather uncomfortable pillow, and looked down at the woman he had gone home with. She wasn't particularly pretty, but there was just something about that scent that Sam couldn't ignore.

_-Earlier That Evening-_

_Sam watched Dean's back as he approached the bar with a certain confidence played on his face. When he looked past his brother and toward the bar, he saw the woman Dean was eyeing and knew he was into her. And it was obvious she was into him too. _

_Maybe Dean would forget he was there and go home with this chick. Sam could only hope really. He needed to do something, and being on his brothers' leash wasn't exactly what he had in mind. _

_Then something weird happened. It was as if a plug or a wad of cotton that had been stuck in his nose and ears had suddenly popped out. Irritated by the sensation, Sam rubbed his nose and then massaged his ears for a moment. _

_But when he pulled his hands away it was as if he could smell and hear everything much clearer. He couldn't smell anything too distinct yet, other than the few that he knew such as booze, vomit, cigarette smoke, meat, blood, etc. But there were other underlying scents that he couldn't quite decipher with all the excitement of the bar around him. _

_He also found he could hear snippets of other peoples' conversations from clear across the room. If he were a nosy person that would come in quite handy. But as he tuned in, he quickly tuned out when he realized he didn't really give a crap about Joanie and her boyfriend being a cheating son-of-a-bitch._

_Sam knew that this all meant he was changing. It scared him, and exhilarated him at the same time. But he didn't want this. None of this. He wanted to be normal – human. _

_Just as those thoughts crossed his mind and dread filled his heart, his nose caught an interesting scent from directly behind him. He couldn't describe it, he knew it was a woman, and he knew she was looking at him – even with his back turned. But the scents she was giving off made him want to just bask in her presence forever. _

_When Sam couldn't take not knowing what she looked like anymore, he turned around to face her suddenly. He was surprised, but at the same time he wasn't. Again, it was hard to explain. _

_She wasn't quite plump, but she wasn't in shape either. Her dirty blond hair was tossed in a messy bun, and she didn't wear any make-up so the tiny scars and acne flaws were noticeable on her skin. Her skin wasn't awful, but imperfect. Her green eyes pierced him pointedly from behind her thin-rimmed glasses, and were suddenly full of fear when she saw that he noticed her. _

_She shoved her hands in her black hoodie pockets nervously as he approached her intently. And only when he was in front of her did he notice that the smell coming from her wasn't from a perfume…it was all natural he realized, his nostrils flaring. _

_"I'm Sam." He introduced himself, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, not feeling the need to expose his _claws_ to her. _

_"Kelly." She replied, still obviously nervous but trying to keep it cool. _

_"You from around here?" Sam asked almost playfully as he was filled with a foreign confidence. _

_Was it that bastard in the back of his mind that constantly mocked him? He wasn't sure. _

_"Yea." She mumbled, "I live about ten minutes out."_

_She blushed at her own nervous words. _

_"Sorry, I don't really meet many guys. You probably didn't need to know where I live exactly." _

_Sam laughed, "No its fine, Kelly."_

_She laughed in return, feeling a little more comfortable with him. _

_"I'm usually not this forward, but you wanna get out of here?" Sam asked curiously. _

_Kelly looked up into his eyes and shrugged, it wasn't like she was a virgin or anything. _

_"Let's go to my place." She offered. _

_"Sounds great." Sam agreed as she lead him out of the bar. _

_-Present Time-_

Sam found that Kelly wasn't all that great in bed. Experienced though she may be, she definitely couldn't hold his interest for long, though her enticing scent that drew him to her in the first place still lingered.

After spending time with her, Sam learned that the scent was her excitement as it tightened her gut, and the chemicals ran wild in her brain – pure, unleashed, untamed, emotion.

So now he lay there with his bare chest pressed against her bare back as she slept. Her dirty blond hair now sprawled in a long tangled mess across her face and her glasses on the nightstand by the bed.

She looked like a completely different person from when he met her. Still not really his type though; he knew after this morning, he wouldn't see her again probably.

When had he become such a player? Sam wondered to himself. This was more his brothers' department, really. He wasn't much of a 'love 'em and leave 'em' type.

But things change, right?

Not being able to resist, he ghosted his clawed hand over her bare arm as she grasped the covers close to her in sleep.

Sam's attention was then drawn to his claws with wide-eyes. Was it his imagination, he wondered, or had his claws grown longer? They seemed a little longer, and much sharper. He didn't doubt his ability to tear through flesh with those now.

But why would he want to do that?

Why _wouldn't_ he?

Then something was off, Sam realized as his head snapped up and he was suddenly more alert. He was drawn out of his thoughts when he heard a sudden but low 'thump' from the front of the house.

Then there were footsteps, headed toward this room.

Sam got up from the bed, and shoved underpants, then pants on hurriedly. As a last minute thought, he then tugged his t-shirt on.

That's when the footsteps approached the bedroom door, and Sam readied himself to fight off the intruders as he flexed his knuckles subconsciously.

Then the doorknob turned, and the door opened.

Sam immediately relaxed when Dean stood in the threshold pointing the light of the flashlight in his face. His face was contorted in an angry expression; until he laid his eyes on Kelly…then he looked downright _pissed_.

* * *

_Sorry some of this is...kinda inappropriate. I try to keep it appealing to all readers, but I think this had to be done. _

_More to come soon! What do you think? :)_


	7. Free Fall Without A Parachute

_Chapter 7_

* * *

It was strange, Sam thought to himself as he sat in the passengers' seat of the Impala with his older brother behind the wheel as usual. He was sure the moment he saw Dean that he would have brought the cavalry with him – meaning Bobby.

But he was alone.

Dean told Sam to gather his belongings and go out to the car. And he did. He wasn't in much of a mood to fight with Dean today.

The sky was starting to brighten as the morning sun was moments from exposing itself. It cast a beautiful sort of light purple glow around their surroundings, Sam noticed as he desperately kept his eyes away from Dean.

He knew Dean would start yelling soon. It was only a matter of time.

Dean kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of him, doing his best not to look over at his brother. He knew Sam was expecting him to start yelling at him, but he wouldn't.

Sam didn't know that their father was at Bobby's house – and that would be Dean's punishment for him. He wasn't going to warn him about what he was about to walk into.

Dean knew that once Sam stepped foot into Bobby's house, their dad would tear him a new one. So of course Dean wasn't going to soften the blows by snapping at Sam for himself.

But it was hard. Right now all he wanted to do was pound Sam into the pavement for being so reckless, for making him worry like that when all he was doing was getting laid.

And that was another thing, Dean thought to himself. Since when was Sam into picking up stray women in bars? That definitely wasn't his style.

And honestly, if it were under any other circumstances, Dean would have been a little proud that he had made such an impression on his little brother. But with Sam changing the way he was…did this have something to do with that?

Dean wasn't sure, and it was making his head hurt just to think about.

"Why aren't you screaming?" Sam finally asked when they pulled onto Bobby's block.

Dean didn't reply, instead he took a quick glance in Sam's lap and noticed his brothers' hands were ringing around the hem of his shirt nervously.

He also hadn't failed to noticed that his claws had gotten longer, and sharper – making them downright deadly.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, and shook his head.

"I've got nothing to say." Dean said sounding somewhat monotone.

He slowed the Impala to a crawl, and finally parked in front of Bobby's house. He turned the car off, and shoved his keys in his pocket before looking up at his brother finally.

Sam was sending him the scariest death-glare he had ever seen on that face, ever.

"Dad's here..? And you didn't tell me." Sam snapped furiously.

"You did it to yourself." Dean replied simply as he opened the door and climbed out of the car.

Sam did the same immediately, to Dean's surprise. Then together they both walked in silence up Bobby's lawn, ignoring Cohan's low and dangerous growls as the Rottweiler eyed Sam warily.

As they made it to Bobby's steps, the front door slammed open and standing in the doorway was their father John Winchester looking rather unimpressed, with his eyes trained on Sam.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" John demanded angrily as he held the door open for Sam and Dean to pass through.

Once Sam and Dean were inside, John closed the front door and turned to face Sam.

"What happened?" John asked Dean.

"He was um…with a girl." Dean replied automatically.

Sam snapped his head in Dean's direction with accusing eyes. It was clear to Dean that Sam thought he had betrayed him.

"A girl?" John muttered to himself in disbelief as he placed his hand over his eyes and massaged lightly to relieve the tension building.

At that moment, Bobby entered the room from the kitchen. He watched as John was clearly about to start rounding on Sam.

"Have you _lost_ your _mind_?" John screamed in Sam's face, "We don't know what's _happening_ to you! For all we know, you could have cursed the _girl_ too! You _MORON_!"

For half a second, Sam thought his father was going to give him the 'following orders' speech that he'd gotten over a hundred times since he was a kid. But this argument wasn't what he was expecting.

Guilt seized his gut, and a chill crept up his spine. He knew his father was right. He could have just ended someone's life.

Dean watched as Sam's facial expression changed instantly from rage, to fear, and then contorted to guilt as unshed tears sprang to his eyes. Now THAT wasn't like Sam; never, EVER had Sam EVER let their dad win an argument. Even if Sam knew he was wrong, he would fight with John till he was blue in the face.

And as he looked at his brothers' guilt ridden face, so broken and defeated; Dean knew that something was wrong.

"I'm sorry." Sam whispered brokenly.

At Sam's apology, John's eyes widened slightly – obviously taken aback.

A tear slipped past Sam's guard and slid down his cheek, but he wiped it away quickly.

"Did you even think about what you were doing, Sam?" John asked, his voice softened as his anger dissipated along with Sam's.

Sam shook his head, feeling helpless. He _hadn't_ thought it through, honestly. That thing in his mind was blissful, Sam felt. Was that what happened? Had it somehow gained some semblance of control without Sam even knowing?

No, Sam knew. The animal in his mind was there, surely. And he knew it was slowly but surely taking his body (his _claws_ were proof of that) and his mind. But last night, he was almost completely sure it was him…for the most part.

Maybe this curse was changing _him_ too, influencing him in some ways.

Sam sighed, he just wasn't sure anymore.

Another tear fell from Sam's eye and this time he didn't try and stop it as it slid down to his chin.

"What's happening to me?" Sam whispered brokenly as he averted his eyes to his feet.

John took in a deep calming breath, and stepped to Sam's side slowly before placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His heart nearly broke then and there as he heard Sam's voice so full of melancholy, and defeat.

"I'm not sure," he replied honestly, "but we're gonna figure this out, son. You're gonna be okay."

Sam sniffled, and rubbed his running nose on his sleeve. At that moment, John saw Sam's long, sharp claws for the first time.

He bit his lip to prevent him from choking on his own sorrow. He knew that this curse was somehow ripping Sam's humanity apart…but he couldn't let his boys know how scared he was. He needed to be confident for them…for Sam.

**xXx**

After about an hour when the sun had finally risen, Sam had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room finally. Dean, John, and Bobby on the other hand were all wide awake and talking in hushed whispers in the kitchen.

"So we know her name was Elizabeth Godrick, and that she cursed her husband because he cheated. Obviously the curse travels through a bite…and maybe sex. Does it affect everyone, though? I mean, is everyone vulnerable to this thing?" Dean asked curiously.

"We don't know yet." John replied sternly, "We're gonna summon this demon, and get some real answers."

"When are we planning on doing that?" Bobby asked with an eye-roll, still not convinced that summoning a demon is their best bet.

"As soon as Sammy wakes up." John answered matter-of-factly, "We'll fill him in on everything he missed, then we'll get everything together."

"This is a bad idea." Bobby muttered.

"Probably," John agreed with a slight nod, "but it's the only one we've got."

"What about the girl?" Dean interjected, his eyes locked on his fathers'.

John sighed deeply before replying. He looked at his son and then to Bobby who was only looking back at him curiously.

"We're gonna have to keep an eye on her." John said roughly, "I don't know if she'll be infected too."

"And if she is?" Bobby asked.

"If she is, then we'll help her just like we're helping Sam." John replied, sounding sure of himself.

"How exactly are we supposed to help Sam?" Dean wondered aloud.

"The demon will tell us if there's a counter-curse." John snapped.

"And if there's not?" Bobby quipped back.

"What is this, Twenty Questions?" John spat.

"No John," Bobby said with a slightly raised voice, "we just need to be sure!"

"He'll be fine!" John replied.

"How do we know that?" Dean asked sadly.

There was silence; John didn't know if the demon would tell them what they needed to know. He just knew that he had to save Sam. He had to make sure his son was okay. He couldn't lose him.

"I don't know, okay." John admitted in a raspy voice, "I just know that we gotta save him."

"Hey believe me; I know we gotta save him. I've been lookin' after the kid his entire life." Dean replied with soulful, sad eyes, "But that's why we can't walk into this blind. We gotta be one-hundred percent right with this."

John looked back at Dean and offered a half-smile as he nodded once.

"You're right." John said simply.

At that moment, Sam walked into the kitchen with glazed sleep-filled eyes peering at everyone standing before him curiously.

"Mind toning it down?" He muttered tiredly.

Dean shrugged, and then grabbed Sam by the shoulder gently as he tugged him along back into the living room. Too tired to argue, or snap – Sam followed wordlessly.

Dean then let go of Sam and sat on the couch that was up against the wall in front of the open living room window, where Sam had made his makeshift bed. The light of the morning seeped into the living room from the open window and made Dean cringe at its brightness, but he ignored it so he could talk to Sam in private.

Curious as to where this was going, Sam took a seat next to his brother, on his left side.

"What's up?" Sam asked with a tired yawn.

"I want you to know that we _are_ going to fix this." Dean whispered confidently, "If this is the last thing I do, I swear on my life that we _will_ fix this."

"From what I heard, it sounds like you guys are struggling." Sam admitted with a rough sleep-filled voice.

"How much did you hear?" Dean wondered.

"Something about summoning a demon, then everything after that." Sam replied a little sheepishly.

"You heard that? From here?" Dean asked somewhat skeptically.

"My uh…hearing's improved," Sam admitted almost guiltily, "and my sense of smell."

"That could be a pain in the ass." Dean said trying to crack a joke to hide how freaked out he really was.

Sam nodded with a halfhearted smile on his face as a small chunk of his brown hair fell into his face. Annoyed, Sam shook his head to get his hair out of his line of sight.

Dean's eyes widened slightly at his brothers' movement…not _because_ of the movement, but because when Sam shook his head to move his hair, it also moved a lock of hair that covered his ear.

It was getting worse, Dean saw – looking somewhat terrified.

There in full view was Sam's ear, now looking slightly narrower, with a pointed tip; making him look somewhat elf-like.

…You know, if elves had _claws_.

Just when Dean was about to say something, there was a crash as the living room window they sat by suddenly shattered and the blinds jumped at the pressure as a bullet whizzed past Dean's face and into the wall across from them.

Dean instinctively reached out in that moment, and pulled Sam off the couch and onto the floor as another bullet imbedded itself into the same wall as the first one, sending a cloud of dust to the floor as the bullets broke the plastered walls.

Dean heard their father call out to them from the kitchen worriedly, and then saw as John emerged just in time to see another three bullets fly into the room.

Immediately John hit the ground in surprise, but was otherwise unharmed.

Dean covered Sam protectively and called out to their father.

"We're okay!"

John nodded at his sons in approval and relief.

"Stay down." He mouthed to them.

Dean nodded in understanding, comprehending the command as a direct order, even though the bullets had ceased fire.

John saw Dean's comprehension, and then crawled back into the kitchen to where Bobby was stationed. Once in the kitchen, John pulled his .45 from his waistband, and loaded it.

"They alright?" Bobby asked worriedly.

"Yea." John growled out as he finished loading his weapon.

He then snuck out the backdoor, to go after the son-of-a-bitch that _dared_ threaten his sons.

* * *

_John's not too happy, eh? Haha. Oh no! :O_

_Tell me whatcha think! _


	8. Hot Mess

_Chapter 8_

* * *

With his pistol held in front of him at the ready, John crept through the Salvage Yard – which was Bobby's backyard, and silently made it to the side yard behind a chain-link fence.

Keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings and seeing nothing, John confidently opened the gate and stepped through.

Getting on his hands and knees, but still keeping his gun in his hands, John crawled through the front yard to the street and got to the driveway.

Once hidden behind his truck from where the shots were coming from, John got to his feet but still remained low. He watched through the windshield of his truck and the passengers' side window as an African American man crept up to the slick black Impala, and eyed it curiously for a moment before heading toward John's black truck. In his hands, John noticed was a large sniper rifle which was held in a defenseless position.

Perfect, John thought to himself as he lowered back down into an awkward bow and rolled toward the drivers' side of the truck.

Through the drivers' door window and out the passengers' door window, John got a better look at the man who was now looking at his truck.

He had come across him only a couple of times, but John Winchester _never_ forgot a face.

It was Gordon Walker.

He was a dangerous hunter, John had learned after getting to know the man a little better. Where he was good at what he did his tactic and instinct only seemed to see things in black and white.

If the thing he was hunting wasn't human, it was automatically evil – in Gordon's eyes.

Had this lunatic somehow gotten wind of what was going on with Sam? John closed his eyes to steady his ragged breathing at the thought.

If so, then Gordon wouldn't stop coming after Sam until either of them died.

Cursing under his breath, John stood to his full height and stepped out from behind the truck. As he revealed himself to Gordon, he held his pistol out in front of him and aimed it at Gordon's head.

Gordon turned his attention to John with wide-eyes as he raised his hands as a means of surrender. Though John would have felt better if Gordon put the rifle down.

"Put the gun down." John spat venomously.

"Whoa! John? What's the matter?" Gordon asked as if he truly didn't know what John was upset about.

"Are you insane?" John cried, "You nearly killed my kids you son-of-a-bitch!"

"Nearly?" Gordon asked suddenly looking angry instead of surprised, "John, I gotta finish the job."

"The job?" John demanded wide-eyed, "What job?"

"Sammy." Gordon replied matter-of-factly.

John's brows knit together to make himself look confused, but inside his gut was in a cold fearful fit. Gordon had learned about Sam, hadn't he?

"What about Sam?" John asked, wanting to hear this from Gordon's mouth instead of guessing.

A genuine smile crept across Gordon's features and a small chuckle escaped his lips.

"You don't know?"

John shook his head, not letting Gordon know he wasn't being truthful.

"_You_…don't know?" Gordon asked again as if in disbelief, but at the same time slightly giddy at knowing something John didn't.

"Obviously not!" John snapped, "Mind filling me in?"

Gordon shrugged and then nodded as he lowered his hands, but John shook his hands which were still wrapped around his loaded pistol. Instantly, Gordon raised his hands again in good faith.

"About a month ago, I was doing an exorcism in Louisiana. It was in some girl, some low-level demon." Gordon said with a small eye-roll showing that it was an easy job, "But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the damned thing muttered something…about a coming war – I don't think it meant to, it just sort of slipped out. But it was too late…it peaked my interest. And you can _really_ make a demon talk if you got the right tools."

"And what about the girl it was possessing?" John asked looking sickened, as if he didn't already know.

"She didn't make it." Gordon said halfheartedly as if he didn't care that he killed a human being.

John bit back a curse, and let the bastard continue.

"It said that they've got these soldiers, fighting on Hells side. I mean, they're psychics – so they're not exactly pure humans, but still." Gordon shook his head as a look of disgust took his features, "What kinda worthless scum-bag you gotta be to turn against your own race?"

John knew it was a rhetorical question, so he remained quiet. His mind running through ways he could kill Gordon right there.

"But you know the biggest kick in the ass?" Gordon asked now looking somewhat happy again, "This demon said I knew one of them…our very own Sammy Winchester."

Gordon and Sam had met before? Neither Sam nor Dean had mentioned it to him, but John figured he'd question them later.

Actually, John had known since Sam was little about what Gordon was talking about. He knew that one day Sam might one day be evil, and it didn't have anything to do with the curse that was changing him now. No…what Gordon was talking about scared John to his very core. Because what this was, was changing Sam much slower than the curse of The Beast of Bray Road.

And when Dean and Sam told him about Sam's sudden visions of the near future of peoples impending doom starting up…his heart nearly broke because then he knew what he heard wasn't a lie. He knew what was flowing through Sam's blood.

"And you believed it?" John asked keeping up his defenses, "Because a demon told you?"

Gordon shrugged, keeping his smile still intact.

"Then I get an urgent call yesterday morning," Gordon says sounding interested in his own words, "saying that Sammy was cursed, and that he's slowly changing into something else."

John exhaled sharply, and shook his gun to add a certain threatening emphasis to his words.

"Who called you?" John demanded.

"He didn't give a name." Gordon replied quickly, "He just said I had to get to the Singer Salvage Yard to take him out."

"Well you're not touching my son, damnit." John said in a deep, rough tone.

"He won't be your son much longer, John." Gordon tried to reason, "We gotta end him, before he kills someone."

"You make a move on him, and I'll put a bullet in your brain." John threatened, meaning every word with every fiber of his being.

"Stop being so stubborn, John!" Gordon yelled, "He's not even human!"

"He's my son." John said simply.

Suddenly, much to John's relief – Bobby's front door swung open, and crashed against the outer wall. In the threshold in between inside and outside stood Bobby holding a rifle at the ready, aimed directly at Gordon Walker's head.

"Get off my property, you son-of-a-bitch!" Bobby yelled as he cocked his gun to show he wasn't kidding.

"You too, Singer?" Gordon asked Bobby looking slightly amused, "This kid's got the both of you wrapped so tight around his finger, it's almost pathetic."

"You got to the count of three," Bobby warned in his thick angry voice, "till I blow your brains out."

"You're no murderer, Bobby." Gordon laughed.

"One…"

"But then again, maybe this demon-linked psychic freak has you brainwashed somehow…"

"Two…"

The moment Bobby said 'two', John instantly repositioned his pistol, and took aim at Gordon's left shoulder and without second thought, fired.

Gordon dropped his rifle to the ground, and grunted in surprise pain as he made a grab for his wounded shoulder and closed his eyes against the radiating pain.

"Bobby might not be the killing type," John said in a furious voice, "but _I_ would. I would kill _any_ bastard who made a move on either of my sons."

"Y-you're making a mistake!" Gordon spat through his heavy breathing.

"No…you are." John said simply as he finally lowered his pistol, "If I catch you trying to hurt either of my boys ever again…I'll shoot you on sight – and next time, it won't be in the shoulder."

Gordon didn't say anything as John walked past him, and up to Bobby's house. Once he and Bobby were both inside with the door closed behind them and locked, John saw that the living room was vacant.

Bobby lowered his rifle, but didn't drop it. The living room window was now busted, and Gordon could make a move at the now weakened barrier.

John however saw the thick worry that contorted Bobby's features, and he knew it wasn't just about the busted window.

"What is it?" John asked as he clicked the safety on his pistol.

"It's Sam." Bobby said sounding slightly shaken.

Fear gripped John's chest as a million reasons as to what could be wrong with Sam ran through his mind.

"What happened? Was he shot?" John asked, hysteria only a hair from reaching his voice.

"No." Bobby replied, "Dean took him to the bathroom. He doesn't look too good."

Instantly, John made a rush for the stairs and bolted up them without a second thought. He turned down the hall, and the second door to the right was the red bathroom door.

John pounded his fists on the bathroom door feverishly.

"It's me!" He called.

"Come in." Dean replied sounding shaken, and terrified.

Without hesitation, John pushed open the bathroom door and saw Dean kneeling on the floor next to the bathtub with his head turned back to his father. John saw that Dean's green eyes were lit up with worry.

"What's wrong?" John asked Dean.

Dean looked back toward the bathtub, and then with a stifled sob – he replied.

"I-I don't know. When we got off the floor, he kept saying 'it hurts', 'it hurts'…and he's running a fever, w-worse than any fever I've ever seen. He told me to get him someplace cold…this was the first thing I could think of."

John took a couple steps into the bathroom and saw what – or _who_ was in the bathtub.

In the bathtub full of ice with his knees knelt slightly so he could lie properly, was Sam. His skin was tinged red, but not from the ice cubes, John noticed looking surprised. He was red from heat, sweat poured from his face and neck, and the ice cubes in direct contact with his overheated body were melting rapidly.

Dean wasn't kidding when he said the kid was 'running a fever'.

His breathing was heavy and erratic, and his glossy, unfocused eyes stared at the ceiling non-blinkingly. And his dark wet hair was hand-combed back…completely revealing his pointed creature-like ears.

John's breath caught in his throat as he kept his eyes glued on his younger son. He wasn't gone for that long, and already Sam was knocked off his feet.

"I-it's getting worse." Dean whispered sounding defeated as he too kept his eyes on Sam.

Sam finally turned his bleary eyes toward his brother, looking somewhat incredulous.

"'M not giving up." Sam mumbled weakly.

Surprised and a little relieved, Dean nodded. Both he and John knew that Sam meant he wasn't giving up to what he said was now accompanying him in his own mind. Had it fought him for control again?

"Me neither, dude." Dean reassured in a hoarse voice.

Sam nodded and sank s little into the sea of ice cubes.

"I need more." Sam said sounding irritated and tired, "It's too hot."

Dean nodded, and didn't reply as he got to his feet and walked past his father and out of the bathroom. John saw that the moment Dean turned around, and as he walked out of the bathroom…tears slid down his face.

* * *

_I know it seemed like this just sort of popped outta nowhere with Sam being sick, but I'll get to what happened in the house with Sam and Dean while John was outside with Gordon in the next chapter. Haha. Have patience. :D_

_And something funny is happening with the site. I can't center the 'Chapter _' sign. It's angering me, though. Haha. I'll try and fix it later, but at least this time there's quotation marks, right? Haha. _


	9. Burnout

_Chapter 9_

* * *

Dean watched with wide-eyes as his father crawled out of the room through the double doors and into the kitchen where he had just come from, his face a mask of determination. Dean knew that face; he saw it every time his father took them hunting when he and Sam were younger.

John Winchester didn't mess around when it came to a hunt…and he sure as _hell_ didn't mess around when it came to his sons.

When John was out of sight, Dean noticed that the shots had stopped firing, and the dust from the bullets hitting the plaster had finally cleared the air. But he wasn't sure if the attacker was gone, and he didn't want to chance getting up and exposing himself and Sam.

So Dean remained on the ground by the couch, hovering over Sam protectively.

Who could possibly want to kill them? Dean had to wonder.

Sure there were a few demons that were out for their heads, and a few other nasties. But coming at them with a gun was a pretty human move.

Dean had his money on a hunter.

But why would a hunter come after them, though? It didn't make much sense.

A movement in front of Dean caught his attention causing him to look up. Relief swept through him when he saw that it was Bobby's feet coming from the kitchen. There he was crouching low to the ground, just above a crawl with a wary look on his face as his eyes scanned his living room.

When his gaze rested on Dean, he motioned with his hands telling him to gather Sam and get into the kitchen.

Dean looked down at his brothers' disheveled mop of dark hair just beneath his face, and felt his heavy uneven breathing. But Sam was in one piece, and alive - so that was good enough for him.

Slowly, Dean moved his upper body upwards until he was kneeling before his brother looking down at him expectantly. Taking the sudden lack of weight piled on top of him as a good sign, Sam sat up slowly but kept a watchful eye around his surroundings.

When he too was kneeling, he and Dean positioned themselves into a low crouch and quickly scuttled into the kitchen behind Bobby.

Once safely hidden from the window where their attacker had struck, Bobby, Sam and Dean got to their feet and stretched out the kinks that had formed from their tense muscles.

After a moment they finally relaxed, and Sam took a seat at the table – not being able to keep himself on his feet.

Dean looked back at his brother worriedly, and searched him for any visible wounds. When he was satisfied that Sam was unharmed, his eyebrows rammed together in muddled confusion.

The color had actually intensified in Sam's face, and his breathing still wasn't normal, but erratic and coming in heavy gasps as his glossy eyes blinked sluggishly.

"You alright, dude?" Dean questioned his brother.

Sam looked up at Dean with imploring eyes, before looking over at Bobby. Bobby looked down at Sam almost accusingly but didn't say a word about it.

"I will be." Sam replied, not sounding all too sure with himself.

Taking that for now, Dean nodded in disbelief before turning to Bobby who was now eyeing the both of them judgingly.

"So who'd you boys piss off now?"

"That's a good question." Dean muttered as he rubbed the dull ache in the back of his neck, "I was thinking it's more than likely human…I mean because it's using a gun."

"That's my guess too." Bobby agreed with a stiff nod.

"And I mean we don't really make a habit of pissing off other hunters." Sam quipped back irritably.

"Wait…" Dean said as he rolled his eyes, "there was Gordon."

"Gordon Walker?" Sam wondered aloud.

"_Gordon Walker_?" Bobby repeated looking at Dean, "When did you boys run into him?"

"A few weeks ago." Dean replied as he wiped the thin layer of sweat that had formed on his brow, "There was this vampire hunt, and it just so happened that he was already on the scene."

"So you boys should have just left it to him, and gone about your business!" Bobby yelled angrily.

"That's what _I_ said." Sam mumbled.

"Well we stayed," Dean quipped back with a shrug, "and helped him out of a tight spot. One of the Vamps was about to chop his head off."

"Serves him right." Bobby muttered, much to Dean's surprise.

"After saving his ass we went our separate ways," Dean continued with a deep sigh, "He went to wherever he was staying, and we went back to the motel…but the Vamps were waiting for us."

"Basically…" Sam interjected looking rather frustrated, "the vampires weren't feeding on people. They were practically making themselves sick by feeding off of animals so no humans had to die. And Gordon _knew_, he just didn't give a damn."

"Sure sounds like him." Bobby noted as he scrubbed his hand over his gruff chin as he listened to the rest of the recollection.

"Later on, Gordon found the nest." Dean said, cutting Sam off, "And since we weren't going to kill a human, we made sure the vampires got out of that town safely, and then left Gordon tied in his own mess for three days."

"I can see why he'd be mad at you." Bobby offered with wide-eyes, "I'd be pretty pissed too."

"Yea but he had it coming!" Dean defended.

"We should have killed him." Sam commented pitilessly with a furious spark in his eye.

Both Bobby and Dean looked back at Sam pointedly; both shocked to hear such a thing come from Sam.

As the minutes progressed, Sam was looking worse and worse as a thick layer of sweat soaked his face and neck and his hooded eyes flitted back and forth between Dean and Bobby.

"You sure you're alright?" Bobby asked Sam, his eyebrow quirked as he watched the kid prepare to lie to him.

"M'fine." Sam spat tiredly.

"Come on, Sam." Dean pleaded with a wary eye-roll, "We're not idiots. I mean, come on – who do you think you're fooling? Now, what's the matter?"

"Don't worry about it Dean!" Sam snapped with a surprising burst of energy as he stared up at Dean spitefully, "We've got bigger problems!"

"Go get some rest, Sam." Dean ordered, "We'll talk about this when you're feeling better."

"I'm fine." Sam growled, "You can't tell me what to do."

"Bull." Dean accused blankly, "And yes I can."

"No you can't," Sam replied darkly, a deep and savage tone laced in his words now that Dean didn't fail to notice, "Not if you wanted to keep your manhood."

Dean stood there for a moment looking at Sam dumbfounded as Bobby tugged his shoulder back gently. Obviously Bobby had sensed that the creature that lurked in Sam's mind was now making itself known as well.

As any man would be, Dean was alarmed by the threat. He knew that Sam would never actually do such a thing. But this thing that seemed to be behind the wheel in Sam's mind at the moment? Honestly, Dean wasn't really sure.

But Dean being Dean kept his game-face on as he smirked at his little brother with phony confidence.

"That's hitting a bit below the belt, Sammy." Dean chuckled at his own pun.

Alarms sounded loudly in Dean's head as he watched Sam flex his clawed hands in waiting as he glared back at him with a ravaging hunger.

This was the same look he received from the creatures he hunted, the things he's been killing his whole life – not from Sammy, not from his little brother. This was just…_wrong._

Seeing his brother this way made his game-face crumble down, as he now looked down at his Sam with a deep sense of pain and pity.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean pleaded, his demeanor completely changed, "This isn't you. I know you can fight this…whatever it is."

Sam lifted his upper lip into a light snarl, but other than that didn't reply.

"Sammy." Dean called gently as his defenses gave way and his eyes began to fill with tears.

In that moment, it was like Sam had snapped out of a trance. His hungry and pensive glare turned into one of confusion and pain as his 'puppy-dog eyes' shone through.

"D-Dean." Sam muttered weakly as the collar of his shirt darkened with the sweat that continued to pour off him.

"Sam?" Dean questioned sounding relieved as his muscles finally relaxed.

Then without warning, Sam's eyes fluttered before rolling into the back of his head. His body then suddenly collapsed in a limp mess onto Bobby's floor at his and Dean's feet.

Without hesitation, Dean fell to his knees at his brothers' side and forced Sam's upper body from under his armpits onto his lap.

"Sammy!" Dean called trying to rouse his brother with gentle taps on Sam's cheeks. But the moment Dean's had made contact with Sam's skin, his head snapped up to shoot an alarmed glance at Bobby.

"He's burning up." Dean commented worriedly.

"Damnit!" Bobby swore as his thoughts whirled with ways he could try to help Sam.

"Dean." Sam called in a terribly weak voice just below a whisper, as if he couldn't manage to make his voice go any higher.

Dean leaned in, and listened to what Sam had to say urgently.

"What is it, Sam?" Dean asked with curious apprehension.

"Hot." Sam whispered, "Too…hot."

"I know, I know." Dean chanted over and over as he tried desperately to think of anything that could bring this fever down.

Sam never got sick. Even when they were kids, the most sick either of them had ever gotten was the Chicken-Pox when Sam was three, and Dean was seven. Needless to say, Dean wasn't all too thrilled with Sam then for getting him sick.

Suddenly an idea struck Dean, and he turned his head to glance at Bobby.

"Help me get him up." Dean ordered.

"What's the plan?" Bobby asked as he grabbed Sam's legs.

"Upstairs." Dean said with a grunt as he got to his feet and hoisted Sam's upper body up with him, "Bathtub."

With little hesitation, Bobby grabbed Sam's legs and helped Dean support Sam's weight as they tried to get him to the bathroom quickly. It took longer than anticipated, when out of nervousness Dean stumbled on a couple of steps, he wouldn't necessarily trip and fall, but it would take a moment or so to straighten himself up and carry on.

"H-hurts…it…hurts." Sam muttered incoherently when Dean reached the top step.

Upon hearing his brothers' broken voice, Dean bit his lip to keep himself from crying for Sam's sake. He had to make sure he was taken care of.

Once in the bathroom, they propped Sam on the tiled floor, and leaned him up against the toilet to help him out of his clothes but decided it best to leave his underwear on – not seeing any reason to relieve him of _all_ his clothing.

Once his clothes were shed, Bobby kicked them into the corner of the bathroom so that they were out of everyone's way so no one tripped on them. Then on the count of three, Dean and Bobby resumed their earlier positions, Dean grabbing Sam by his armpits, while Bobby grabbed his legs, and together they hoisted Sam into the bathtub. But being as Sam was much too tall; they had to make do with bending his knees a little so he could fit.

When Dean was satisfied that Sam wasn't going anywhere, he forcefully grabbed Bobby and they both ran down the stairs in a mad rush.

After a few minutes, Dean and Bobby stumbled back up the stairs and barged into the bathroom, both holding large buckets full of ice.

Dean placed his neatly on the floor with a sigh as he relieved himself of the heavy weight, but he kept his worried eyes down at his brother.

"Ready, Sammy?"

Sam looked up at Dean with weak hooded eyes as his clawed hands crossed over his chest as he grasped his own arms in a death-grip to relieve him of the pain.

Seeing what Dean was planning with the buckets, Sam nodded. His whole insides felt as if they were scorching, like a fire had been ignited inside him, and was slowly burning and melting away what he was made up of.

It was weird, but the ice definitely seemed like a good idea.

Sam nodded feverishly.

Without further hesitation, Dean lifted the bucket over the bathtub, and turned it over – causing the clear ice cubes to fill the bathtub with his little brother.

Instinctively, Sam's muscles tensed as the frozen cubes made contact with his skin. He gasped at the sudden chill that racked his body, but it wasn't long before the heat coming off him sighed with relief causing him to relax into the tub.

He looked up at his brother with glossy eyes and nodded, telling him silently to go ahead and dump the second bucket.

Dean nodded, letting Sam know that he understood and snatched the bucket from Bobby and quickly dumped more ice cubes into the tub on top of his brother and the other half melted cubes.

Again Sam gasped, and gritted his teeth as a harsh shiver coursed through his body with no mercy.

Giving Sam little time to get used to the second bucket of ice, Dean crashed to his knees beside the tub and reached in to turned the knob resting by Sam's feet, which Dean knew was the cold water. The old pipes groaned in protest, but moments later with a loud rush, the faucet released cold water.

Dean looked at Sam again and saw that he wasn't even shivering anymore, but somehow relaxed. Taking that as a good sign, Dean plugged the drain so the cold water and the melted ice couldn't escape.

Withdrawing his hand back to his side, Dean sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he desperately tried to think of their next move.

"I'm gonna go downstairs," Bobby announced solemnly, "see if John could use my help."

Dean looked back at Bobby and nodded a small, but an appreciative 'thank you'.

Bobby nodded, signifying that he got the wordless message before he turned and walked out of the bathroom.

And then Sam and Dean were alone in the bathroom. Dean found it to be extremely awkward, all he wanted to do was cry and scream and figure out how to save Sam…but he wasn't exactly sure how coherent Sam was. And he didn't want his little brother hearing him so broken, so helpless.

"H-hurts." Sam mumbled a tired slur.

"What hurts?" Dean asked his brother worriedly.

Sam turned his bleary yet soulful eyes upward toward his brother.

"Everything."

Dean nodded, not knowing what to say or how to fix it. He was at a complete loss.

So in a feeble attempt to help Sam, Dean scooped up some of the freezing water, and instructed him to close his eyes as he tried to relieve his face of the burn that coursed through his body.

Sam obliged wordlessly, which Dean was thankful for as he dumped small handfuls of water on his brothers' face.

When he was done, Sam opened his eyes and looked back up to Dean.

Suddenly there was a sharp and urgent knock on the bathroom door followed by a harsh voice that Sam and Dean knew all too well.

"It's me!" Called John Winchester.

Sighing with relief, Dean looked down at Sam who now had his eyes trained on the ceiling as if he hadn't heard their father. Honestly, that scared the hell out of Dean.

"Come in." Dean replied shakily.

The bathroom door opened, and then their father walked in. Dean turned to get a good look at him, and saw how worried his father really was.

"What's wrong?" John asked urgently.

Dean glanced back at the bathtub, and saw that Sam's demeanor hadn't changed. So he turned back toward his father, his breath hitching as he stifled a sob.

"I-I don't know. When we got off the floor, he kept saying 'it hurts', 'it hurts'…and he's running a fever, w-worse than any fever I've ever seen. He told me to get him someplace cold…this was the first thing I could think of." Dean said, jumbling everything out of nervousness.

And then John looked past Dean, and for the first time saw his youngest son in the bathtub.

"I-it's getting worse." Dean whispered sounding defeated as he too kept his eyes on Sam.

To Dean's relief and surprise, Sam finally turned his glossy eyes away from the ceiling to look at him and their father.

"M not giving up." Sam mumbled weakly.

Understanding what Sam meant, a tear actually slid down Dean's cheek unable to be contained. He knew Sam was talking about the incident downstairs, where he snapped. And it made Dean proud that Sam wasn't going down without a fight.

"Me neither, dude." Dean replied in a hoarse voice.

Sam nodded and sank s little into the sea of ice cubes.

"I need more." Sam said sounding irritated and tired, "It's too hot."

Wordlessly, Dean nodded in understanding as he got up and walked past his father, and out of the bathroom. He hoped his dad didn't see the tears that now flowed a little more freely from his eyes.

Dean had meant what he said to Sam, he thought to himself with determination. He wouldn't give up on Sam, he would fix him…and that's all there was to it.

* * *

_Sorry for the wait guys, it's been a crazy weekend. Haha. Here's chapter 9 for ya! It's extra long to make up for my absence. _

_What do you think? :D_


	10. There's No Sympathy For The Dead

_Chapter 10_

* * *

The next day was only a little better. Sam had gotten out of the bathtub around mid-afternoon an achy pruned mess when his fever went down, and he stopped complaining about it being too hot to his relief. But the pain in his lower back hadn't stopped, as a matter of fact – Sam thought it may have intensified. So he remained on his feet while he kept his nose in a book.

When he had gotten out of the tub, his father wasn't there to his surprise. When he had asked where his father was, Bobby said that he went to go check on the girl.

Not needing anymore explanation, Sam made a B-line for the library in silence. He knew Bobby was talking about the girl he found at the bar, and slept with, and may have cursed; Kelly.

Dean was sitting in the library at Bobby's desk when Sam entered. He looked up from the book he had in front of him, and gave Sam a small guilt-ridden look that pulled at Sam's heartstrings. He hadn't meant to scare Dean yesterday, but that savage that resided in his mind took over so fast Sam hadn't even realized what had happened.

A moment later, Dean lowered his head again and looked back down at the book. Sam nodded to himself, understanding that Dean wasn't sure what to say. So he looked in one of the categorized piles of the different assortment of books, and finally picked a large one off the top of the pile and opened it.

He had been cradling the large book in the crook of his arm for almost an hour, and right when he was about to give up and try with another book, Dean finally spoke up.

"How are you feeling?"

Sam looked up from the book, looking surprised, and a little dumbfounded. Not wanting to lie to him, because he knew eventually Dean would learn the truth, Sam took in a deep steadying breath.

"Sore…really sore." Sam replied somewhat vaguely.

Dean cocked his head and narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"Sore? Where?"

Sam rolled his eyes, and closed the book he held in his arms and placed it back in the pile where he had found it. He then turned back to Dean and sighed.

"My back mostly…" Sam implied.

"You pull a muscle or something?" Dean asked quizzically.

"Somehow I doubt it." Sam replied with a mirthless chuckle.

"Seriously though, don't you think you should take it easy for a while?" Dean wondered aloud, "I mean yesterday you weren't really looking too good."

That's an understatement, Dean thought to himself, but didn't say anything.

"I'll be okay." Sam replied blankly.

Suddenly there was a loud banging coming from the adjacent room, it was the front door slamming open and then shut followed by stomping into the kitchen. Sam and Dean traded curious looks before moving into the kitchen to find the source of the ruckus.

"Damnit!" John swore angrily as he slammed his fist on the table in the kitchen, "Son of a bitch!"

"What happened?" Bobby asked as he rushed into the kitchen, obviously having been disturbed from the noise John made as well.

Sam and Dean wandered into the kitchen with wide wary eyes trained on their father.

"I've been at that girls house for about an hour, that's what happened." John snapped at Bobby irritably.

Sam's gut twisted in fear as he stared at his father.

"D-did she - ? Is she cursed?" Sam stammered, questioning John's vague explanation.

John looked back at Sam with hard eyes, and shook his head.

"I mean, I don't know! I can't know for sure!"

"How do you not know for sure?" Dean interjected irritably, "Either she's got friggin claws or she doesn't."

John turned his hard look from his youngest to his oldest.

"Watch that tone." He warned.

Feeling like a child, but obliging nonetheless, Dean nodded and bit back a snarky reply.

"What I mean is she wasn't at her house." John explained a little more calm, "After a while of watching her damn _front lawn_, I knocked on the door to see if she was home, but she didn't answer. So I came in through the back and she wasn't there."

"It's Monday, John." Bobby chimed in with his arms crossed over his chest, "Does she have a job? She might be workin'."

"Well I thought that too." John said pointedly, "I went snooping through her stuff and found a few checks from Unemployment, but nothing about a current job."

"Try going back a little later." Dean suggested with a shrug.

John nodded before turning his somewhat softer gaze back to Sam. He offered his youngest son a half-smile.

"How ya feelin' Sammy?" He asked in a hoarse voice.

"Better than yesterday." Sam replied with a small shrug that looked more like a twitch in his shoulder. This wasn't a lie exactly, he decided. He just wasn't telling his father the whole truth. He was already more honest with Dean than he wanted to be today.

"That's good." John noted with a nod.

"He said his back is sore." Dean interjected knowingly.

Sam snapped Dean a threatening look, warning him wordlessly to keep his mouth shut, but Dean pretended he didn't see it. If Sam wasn't going to be completely truthful with their father, then he would.

"You pull a muscle?" John wondered aloud.

"He doesn't think so." Dean replied for Sam.

"Then what is it?" John asked.

Neither Sam nor Dean answered, because neither of them knew themselves. Sam gave his father an oblivious look, which he didn't miss. John just put a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes against the headache that was forming behind his eyes.

The day wasn't even over yet, and it was already too long for his liking.

**xXx**

Later on in the evening when the sun was set, John returned to the house with bags of food in his hands and a tired look on his face. He closed the door behind him, and was ambushed by Bobby who immediately began hounding him with questions.

"Did you drive by the girls house?"

John sighed deeply as he continued to walk into the kitchen. He placed the brown paper bags full of food on the table that was across from the kitchen counter and turned to look at Bobby with a serious look on his face.

"I did." He confirmed. "She still wasn't there."

"Damn." Bobby swore under his breath.

In that moment, Dean and Sam entered the kitchen and went straight for the bags that John had just placed on the table. Dean withdrew his foil-wrapped bacon cheeseburger, while Sam went straight for the foil wrapped…rare double bacon cheeseburger.

John felt weird ordering it honestly. Sam was never one who was known for his appetite. That was more Dean's territory. In fact, Sam was more health conscious than Dean or even he was. Sure, sometimes Sam would have the occasional burger, and sometimes he would get pizza, but most of the time it was salads for him.

But Sam admitted today that he just wanted to eat meat, raw, bleeding, _breathing_…meat.

Well, he left the 'breathing' part out, but he was thinking it and his stomach didn't protest at the thought.

As Sam unwrapped his burger, there was a sudden loud _'CRASH'_ that came from outside of the house, causing everyone's head to snap in the direction of the back door. Wherever the sound came from, it was close.

John immediately looked at Dean and nodded silently, telling his oldest son without words to watch his back.

Dean understanding the message nodded and dropped his burger on the table before withdrawing his pistol from his waistband.

John pulled his own piece out of his waistband a moment later, and clicked the safety off before holding it in front of him at the ready.

Dean opened the backdoor, and John filed out of the house, soon followed by Dean after he closed the door behind him silently so he didn't compromise their position.

Sam looked at the door for a moment with a defiant look. Was he suddenly an invalid? Why couldn't he go out there to see what was making that noise?

To hell with it, Sam decided as he stormed out of the kitchen and into the living room where the bag that they kept their weapons in had been dropped. He knelt down in front of the duffel, and immediately began rummaging inside it for his gun.

Bobby stood in the doorway, having followed Sam into the living room.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bobby asked with a hint of authority in his tone.

"Going out there to help Dean and my dad." Sam replied matter-of-factly as he finally got his hands on his gun and the bullets that went with it.

"I think they got it, kiddo." Bobby tried to reason, "Just let it go."

"No." Sam snapped defiantly as he loaded his pistol, "I'm tired of just sitting on my ass waiting for whatever this is to just kill me."

Bobby didn't respond to that, and Sam hadn't expected him to. With a final click as the chamber locked into place, Sam got to his feet and walked past Bobby and into the kitchen where he came to the backdoor.

"I'm comin' with you." Bobby announced as he grabbed his rifle from usual position against the wall behind the couch. He cocked it, and held it in front of him defensively as he hurried to meet Sam in the kitchen.

Surprised to see that Sam waited, Bobby nodded at Sam signifying that he was ready.

Taking Bobby's silent approval, Sam opened the back door letting Bobby pile outside, before closing the door behind himself quietly.

It was dark outside, but they knew their way around the Salvage Yard like the back of their hands. Bobby took the lead, and walked toward the back where the massive piles of cars were, and the most likely spot where the noise probably came from.

Bobby's backyard, even though it didn't look like it, it was all neatly sorted. There in the beginning was a maze of reparable cars that he was fixing for customers, or for his own personal use. And then there were the towers, further in the back. The towers were towers of cars that had no hope of ever starting up again, so they were piled one on top of another into towers. He dubbed that area 'The Graveyard', because that's what it was, basically. A graveyard for cars.

Keeping a wary eye on his surroundings, Sam followed Bobby silently through the maze of wrecked cars and discarded tools that lay scattered in the dirt.

Honestly, Sam hoped they didn't come across anything that would require him putting up a fight. He was still weak from the fever, and he was achy all over. He didn't think he would put up much of a fight let alone come out of it if it came down to it.

But still he pressed on behind Bobby.

And that's when the smell hit him; it smelled like warm, fresh meat, and blood. It was clear that it was dead meat, but it hadn't been that way too long. He bet it would still hold a hot living taste. A pleasured shudder ripped through him, but he held his composure, not wanting to draw alarm to him.

Then as Bobby and he turned the corner, deeper into the maze of cars and just entering 'The Graveyard' – Sam found the origin of the smell.

Well technically, John and Dean found it first as they stared at it with looks of shock and horror.

There, hanging from the top car on one of the tower of cars, was a headless body dangling along the sides of the cars. Its arm was what was holding it to the top car; the corpse's arm was actually caught in the front drivers' door.

Bobby groaned in disgust and came to a halt, which drew Dean and John's attention. John went from looking surprised to looking angry when he noticed Sam was out there as well.

"Why's he out here?" John demanded, suddenly furious.

"He was dead set on helping you guys out." Bobby replied, his eyes still on the dead body.

"Sammy?" Dean asked urgently, seeing Sam's unfocused glossy eyes lock on the dead body.

All the attention was suddenly drawn to Sam as he took staggering steps forward toward the corpse, as if he were in a trance. Mid-step and Sam opened his hand loosely, releasing the pistol he held so tightly in his hands, and ignored it as it fell to the dirt.

"Sam?" John tried a little louder.

His loud voice, earned him a low and dangerous growl as Sam turned his head toward them threateningly.

"Not again." Dean moaned sadly as he lowered his weapon.

That's when Sam suddenly lunged at the tower, and grabbed at the body's right leg. He gritted his teeth as he dug his sharp claws in the body's flesh as he pulled it out of the door and onto the dirt ground with a loud _'thud'_.

"What the hell do we do?" Dean asked his father with wide-eyes as he watched his little brother lean in and…_taste_ the corpse.

At the sight before him, Dean nearly lost his lunch. He had seen a great deal in his twenty seven years, but never could he have prepared himself for _this_. His eyes were glued to his little brother who was tearing his long sharp claws and dull teeth through the already dead body like an animal.

"SAM!" John snapped, authority and dominance laced beneath his call.

Sam turned away from his dinner and glared daggers at John with a snarl on his face, which looked downright horrifying with his face covered in the corpse's crimson blood.

"Sam Winchester, get your ass inside. NOW!" John ordered, placing anger in his tone. Inside he wasn't really angry though. He was tearing himself up, inside. Sam was losing himself, and he was failing in finding any sort of way to help him.

Suddenly Sam was on his feet, with his eyes still fixed on John. John stiffened under the gaze, because he knew it too well. It was the look of a predator as it assessed its prey. Right now, Sam was looking for his weak spot.

That's when Sam growled; trying to get a rise out of John…but his father didn't even flinch.

In that moment, Bobby jumped into the picture and rammed the butt of his rifle into Sam's temple – rendering him unconscious instantly.

Bobby lowered his rifle, and looked down at Sam's limp form in the dirt as he took in deep steadying breaths.

"Just so you know," Bobby said as he turned toward John and Dean angrily, "sometime in the future that _thing_ is gonna be in full control of Sam. Callin' his names and givin' him orders ain't gonna snap him out of it, then! We're running out of time!"

John and Dean looked at Bobby in shock as he continued to yell at them.

"Now you had some _stupid_ ass idea the other day, sayin' we were gonna summon some demon. I got everything we need to do it. So we're doin' it tonight…it's still a stupid idea, but it's still the only one we got!"

Bobby took another deep breath, and calmed himself down significantly.

"Now let's get this cleaned up! Idgits!"

John and Dean exchanged curious looks before nodding in Bobby's direction stiffly.

"Alright, Bobby and I will get Sam in the house. You think you can take care of this?" John asked Dean as he pointed to the corpse that lay on the ground at the base of the tower.

Dean nodded again, and turned to sneak a look at his little brother who was still definitely out for the count.

"What if he wakes up and he's still Coo-Coo for Coa-Coa Puffs?" Dean asked his father, hiding his inner torture by way of plastering a smirk on his face and cracking jokes.

"We'll cuff him to a bed." John said hopefully as he turned to Bobby, silently asking if that was alright with him.

"We don't need to," Bobby said vaguely, "I got something to show you in the house. But let's get him inside first."

John nodded as he walked over to his youngest and looped supporting arms under Sam's armpits, while Bobby grabbed Sam's legs – and together they managed to hoist his large frame up, and get him away from the scene.

Dean stayed behind and looked down at the body more closely. It was absolutely disgusting, because not only was it covered in its own blood after being decapitated, but now it sported teeth and claw marks in its chest, just above its full breasts – showing that this was a woman. That made Dean want to throw up knowing that his brother had done that.

A shudder ripped through Dean, so he decided it best to clear his thoughts before cleaning this mess up.

He lowered his body into a crouch and looped his arms under the corpse's armpits and was about to drag it out of sight when a thought occurred to him.

Clearly this was an attempt to get attention, or some sort of twisted threat. Why else would this body just be left here like this?

So then where was the head?

Dean lowered the body gently back into the dirt, and walked over to the tower where Sam had pulled it from. When she was found, she was hanging from the drivers' side door in the top car. So that was most likely where he was bound to find her head.

He climbed the tower with ease, and once he reached the top car, at the count of three he opened the drivers' side door. He gasped in disgusted surprise when sure enough; lying in the drivers' seat was the head of the victim. Dean sighed as he released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

It was the woman Sam had taken home that night in the bar, Dean realized sadly. The girl that their father couldn't find today.

Dean swore to himself, as he took notice to the piece of paper that was rolled up and sticking half way out of her mouth so it could be seen.

Wasting little time, Dean grabbed the head by her hair, and climbed back down the tower without shutting the drivers' door.

Once on solid ground, Dean withdrew the piece of paper from the girls' mouth and unrolled it. Sure enough, on the paper was a scribbled message which he read through a couple of times with curious eyes.

"John - She killed her boyfriend. You really think Sam's so different? In a few days time he'll kill you all. He spread his curse to Kelly, here. I had to end it. Don't think I won't be back for Sam if you don't kill him yourself. He has to die. – G"

Curiously, Dean knelt next to the body he had just left on the ground and examined her more closely. His eyes widened as he grabbed her wrists to get a better look her hands. Sure enough, on her fingers where normal human fingernails were supposed to be, were darker, longer, sharper, deadlier claws…just like Sam's.

So Sam had cursed her.

Dean sighed; his expression full of great misery as he crumbled up the note and shoved it in his pocket. Gordon was messing with them now, watching them. He knew it.

But Dean swore on his life, as long as he had a breath to spare – he wouldn't let Gordon or _anyone_ get near Sam.

* * *

_Hm...I wonder if this is angsty enough. I could pile it on heavier. :)_

_I dunno guys, hehe. Lemmie know what you wanna see, or if you like it the way it is. _


	11. When Two Are One

_Chapter 11_

* * *

The place that Bobby wanted to show John was actually a smaller room locked away in his basement, where the walls were made out of iron, and coated in salt. Inside the room Devils Traps lie on the cement ground, and the ceiling was a large light behind another Devils Trap, only this one was bigger than the ones on the floor and made of the same iron that the walls were made up of so that the light behind it cast an unmistakable shadow on the ground that would have caught any demons attention.

The entire room was basically 'Supernatural Proof'. Anything that could be repelled by salt or iron couldn't step foot in that room.

But the room itself was actually rather empty, all except for a single cot that lay in the center of the room, and a table in the far corner. A mirror hang against the wall above the table, and beside the table was an aluminum bucket.

John was impressed and very grateful, but didn't say anything about it. Now that they decided they were going to summon this demon even while Sam was out for the count, if anything went wrong and it got the drop on them (which wasn't likely, but still in any case…) at least it couldn't get to Sam while he was in here.

John and Bobby placed Sam's unconscious form on the cot, and slowly backed out of the room. Once both men got through the threshold, Bobby gently closed the large iron door with a forceful shove. The lock clicked loudly, echoing throughout the damp basement around them and Bobby backed away from the door slowly.

John on the other hand slid the peephole open, and gazed back inside the panic room to where his son lay still unconscious.

"I'm gonna get the stuff ready, John." Bobby muttered solemnly.

John nodded stiffly at Bobby without looking back at his old friend. His eyes were still locked on Sam miserably. He knew that Bobby meant he was getting the stuff ready to summon the demon.

"Let me know if there's any change." Bobby requested with a sigh.

Again without any elaboration, John understood that Bobby was referring to Sam. However, what John didn't seem to grasp right away was what Bobby meant by 'change'.

His drooped, forlorn face turned quickly into a scowl as he turned to face Bobby with a glint of determination in his eye.

"After that demon tells us what we need to know, there won't be any more _changes_ in Sam." John spat defiantly.

Bobby looked taken aback for a moment as he kept his eyes trained on John warily. "I didn't mean it like that, John. I meant let me know when Sam wakes up."

John's tense posture suddenly sagged with understanding as he nodded seeming slightly more relaxed.

"Fine."

Bobby turned away from John and sighed as he placed his hand on the stair-rail. He loved Sam and Dean like sons, and John – even though most of the time he wanted to kill the bastard, they were still friends. But Bobby tried to be realistic about this.

It was more than likely, this demon wouldn't just hand this information over to them. They needed to know how to fix Sam completely, and lift the curse indefinitely. And demons were natural liars and manipulators. If this demon told them anything, they wouldn't know how true this things' words were. And Sam's life depended on it.

Of course they had their usual demon-arsenal, being holy water, the Devil's Trap in the library, iron, and salt. But depending on how stubborn this demon was, that may not be enough.

Bobby looked back at John before heading up the stairs into the house. John was so desperate; he was willing to sacrifice Sam's life on a whim to save him. But Bobby declared himself the unofficial voice of reason. He needed John to trust him not to get Sam killed.

The moment Bobby reached the house, entering his kitchen. He closed the basement door gently the exact second the front door opened and Dean rushed in holding a piece of paper in a tight fist and an angry yet winded expression on his sweaty face.

"What's wrong?" Bobby demanded when Dean stormed into the kitchen.

Dean held up the paper in his hand and held it out to Bobby, without hesitation the older man took the scrap from Dean's outstretched hand and read through the chicken-scratch handwriting.

"Gordon." Dean said spitefully.

"That stupid son-of-a-bitch." Bobby muttered angrily.

"Where are dad and Sam?" Dean asked worriedly.

Bobby's eyes averted from the note in his hands to the Winchester in front of him. He noticed that Dean went from looking downright furious, to completely worried in almost a split second.

"The basement." Bobby replied honestly, "We didn't know what condition your brother would wake up in, and we didn't wanna take the chance so we locked him down."

Dean nodded in understanding, and exhaled sharply after not noticing he had been holding his breath.

"Wanna give me a hand setting up?" Bobby asked Dean with a shrug, wanting to get the kids mind off his own angst for at least a minute.

Dean nodded sharply, as he and Bobby headed off toward the library to get the space set up so they could summon the demon.

**xXx**

John stood in the cold dark basement by the heavy iron door as he gazed inside the panic room at his youngest son as he finally showed signs of life with small moans and a series of harsh twitching in his left hand.

He wanted more than anything for Sam to wake up and say that he was alright, that he could come out of the room and join the rest of them. However, John knew that it could go both ways. Sam would either wake up and be completely himself…or the animal that had attacked the dead body outside.

John cringed at the memory of Sam lunging at the corpse and…_eating_ parts of it.

The blood on Sam's mouth, and that covered the front of his shirt was a horrific reminder. Even though John doubted he even _needed_ a reminder. That sight had scarred him for life, and he desperately wished he never had to witness either of his sons do something like that ever again.

So John was hoping – hell, he was _praying_ that Sam would wake up and be himself. That's why John's hand rested readily on the thick iron door handle.

"Sammy?" John called hopefully as Sam's head lolled back and forth lazily as he fought the haze his bout of unconsciousness left him with.

"Come on, kiddo. Wake up for me." John whispered.

Sam grunted with an effort to oblige his fathers' request as he lifted his head slowly and cracked his eyes open a little.

"Where 'm I?" Sam muttered tiredly as the God awful headache crept up, making itself known with a great force.

"Bobby's basement." His fathers' voice answered sounding relieved, "You weren't exactly yourself before."

"What happened?" Sam asked halfheartedly as he pushed himself up into a sitting position as quickly as his body would allow.

John was taken aback at the tone of his sons' voice. He sounded as if he almost didn't care that he had lost control. With a sigh, John removed his hand from the door handle.

"Someone left a dead body in Bobby's yard." John began as he kept his eyes trained on his son curiously, "And you…"

John's voice trailed off, and he looked downward not being able to hold Sam's gaze. Guilt seized his gut when he realized he didn't know how to tell Sam what he had done.

"Ate it?" Sam offered, sounding a little more relaxed that he ought to be.

John's eyes widened and his mouth hung agape. His shoulders relaxed slightly when he realized he didn't have to fill Sam in, but he was still concerned. Why was Sam so at ease with this?

Sam actually offered a half smile at John's expression. "I'm covered in blood, dad. It wasn't that hard to guess really."

"You seem pretty, okay with that." John accused almost angrily as his voice raised a little.

Sam shrugged and chuckled mirthlessly. "I didn't kill anyone did I?"

"No." John replied honestly, "But you still ate human flesh."

"Still…I didn't kill anyone."

John shook his head in disbelief. He was ready for two ways his son could have woken up. The first, and most welcome choice – was of course Sam, being himself. His usual, soulful, guilt-ridden self. And then the second option, which was Sam waking up being a bloodthirsty beast.

Not this. John wasn't ready for this to happen. Sam looked down at his bloodstained shirt with fascination and a smile plastered on his face. He wasn't a beast, but this wasn't Sam either.

"Hey dad…" Sam said thoughtlessly as he kept his eyes on the blood on his shirt, "I'm pretty hungry."

John actually cringed when Sam called him 'dad'. He wasn't sure what to say to him. Was this thing even Sam? His mannerisms and reactions were too different. At that thought his face turned hard and angry as he made up his mind.

"I'm not your dad." John said furiously.

Sam finally looked up at John and cocked his head as he stared out the slot that showed his fathers' face from outside the room. His smile however remained intact.

"Is that what you really think?" Sam asked dangerously as he licked the blood from his top lip with a hungry glint in his eyes.

"I know it." John spat, "You're not Sam."

To John's surprise Sam actually laughed a real laugh as if John had said something humorous instead of accusing him of being a monster.

"Why would you say that?" Sam asked as he stood up from the cot slowly, "Because I'm not crying over the fact that I decided to feed myself what my body was craving?"

"Exactly." John confirmed venomously.

'Sam' shrugged and crossed his hands over his chest. "No use crying over spilt milk."

"What are you?" John demanded coldly.

At that second, 'Sam' closed his eyes and John watched as the thing that wore his sons' skin shivered visibly. But by no means was it an uncomfortable shiver, actually…John could have sworn he looked exhilarated.

And then 'Sam' relaxed finally, and opened his eyes.

John lifted his upper lip in disgust at what he saw.

Before 'Sam' closed his eyes, his irises where their normal human hazel, and normal human size. But when 'Sam' opened his eyes, they weren't human looking at all. Instead, his irises and pupils were blown too wide – almost completely covering the whites of his eyes, but instead of their usual hazel color…now his eyes were a dull shade of gold.

They were the eyes of a wolf.

"WHAT ARE YOU?" John screamed at the thing that stood before him pretending to be his son.

"I'm Sam." He said calmly.

"No you aren't." John replied flatly.

Just then, the basement door flew open and Dean rushed down the stairs with a worried and curious look on his face. He reached the bottom step and found his fathers' back, and rushed to John's side.

"We heard you scream. What's going on?" Dean asked his father.

"Dean…" 'Sam' called from the room absently.

Dean looked inside the room through the slot and saw his brothers' eyes and his relaxed composure as he looked back at Dean.

"What's going on?" Dean asked quizzically.

"Dad doesn't think that I'm me." 'Sam' replied simply.

"You aren't!" Dean snapped, knowing that this wasn't his little brother by just one look, "Not really anyway. You may be in his skin, but you're not Sammy."

'Sam' rolled his eyes and turned his back and Dean and John as he took in a deep breath.

A moment passed before Dean decided to speak up.

"So what are you? Are you that _thing_ in Sam's head?"

'Sam' chuckled and turned around to face John and Dean again, his face contorted into an expression of disbelief and giddiness.

"Yes…and no." 'Sam' replied vaguely.

"What the hell does that mean?" John argued.

'Sam' chuckled as he stared John and Dean down with his dark wolf eyes curiously. "It means that my human side is becoming what I once was."

"Meaning?" Dean demanded harshly.

"Meaning that my human side, the Sammy that you're referring to – if you want to think of this so one-sided, is slipping…and I am getting stronger."

Dean nodded slowly. That was what he was thinking, but he kept his face blank as he stared at the thing in the panic room – desperately trying to hide the torment that was tearing his insides apart.

"But I am Sam." he continued in a threatening tone, "I have his memories, and his body anyways as you seem to think…but I know them as _my_ memories, this is _my_ body. And it's changing to accommodate _me_ and _my_ needs."

"Let him go." Dean demanded.

'Sam' rolled his eyes and sighed with impatience at Dean's usual stubbornness. "Lucky for you, I'm still not strong enough to hold onto consciousness…I can feel my human side finally rising to get me outta the drivers' seat."

"Sam's gonna fight you." Dean said sounding sure of himself. "He's strong…he won't let you take control."

'Sam' exhaled sharply, and groaned against the rising pain in his head, but held on for a while longer.

"I know he'll fight me tooth and nail to keep hold of his body…but here we are, almost half way through this body's transformation and we're both fighting equally hard for control. At the moment, we're at equal playing fields."

'Sam' kept his eyes fixed on Dean and John intently as he slowly approached the heavy iron door as if stalking prey.

"But I am the creation of a curse, please remember – and a powerful one at that. And every time I take control, this body's transformation quickens. And even when my human side is in control – the transformation is still happening, but slower -"

"What the hell are you saying?" Dean snapped angrily.

The smile on 'Sam's' face widened into a smug grin as he got closer to the door and he was a breath away from Dean and John, just on the other side of the door.

"It means that I win…give it about another week."

As those last words left his mouth, 'Sam's' eyes rolled up into the back of his head as the pain in his head reached its peak and he lost consciousness for a minute.

Dean and John looked down at Sam's body as it went through a series of twitching and his eyes rolled back and forth beneath his lids as if he were having a nightmare.

A groan escaped Sam's lips, and for a moment – past John's better judgment he was about to open the door and rush to his sons' side, when Bobby's voice piped up from behind him urgently.

"Don't chance it, John." Bobby warned, causing John and Dean to startle and turn to face him with wide eyes.

Neither Dean nor his father heard Bobby creep down the stairs. They were too engrossed in what was happening to Sam to pay anything else any mind.

Sam groaned again, causing Dean and John to look back into the panic room hopefully and saw that Sam was making an attempt to sit up albeit slowly. He raised one of his clawed hands to his head, and rubbed his temple gently against the pressure.

"Sammy?" Dean called out with baited breath as he kept his eyes fixed on his brother.

Sam looked up toward the peephole where his father and Dean were watching him. Upon seeing his fathers' and brothers' relieved and worried gazes, tears sprang to Sam's eyes.

When Dean saw his brother sitting on the cement ground looking sad and helpless, he knew without a doubt that in that panic room was his little brother. There was Sammy, and he was losing himself. But what threw Dean off most of all…were the fact that Sam's eyes hadn't gone back to normal, but had remained the dark gold of a wolf's eyes.

But still…seeing that soulful, despair – Dean knew in that moment that Sam was aware of what was going on when he wasn't in control. He knew what that thing had said to his brother and father.

And most of all…he knew that it was right.

* * *

_Sorry about the delay. I had a pretty hectic St. Patrick's Day, followed by a busy weekend. Ugh. How was everyone else's holiday? _

_Tell me what you thought of this chapter. And all critisizm is welcome. :)_


	12. Blood Children

_Chapter 12_

* * *

As it turned out, the reason Bobby went downstairs was to let John and Dean know that the library was set up for them.

Not wanting to waste any more time, John turned the latch and released Sam from his iron prison so he could join them upstairs. Sam had eyed his father warily before leaving the panic room. He didn't seem to trust himself anymore as his sobs had silenced and became silent flowing tears.

Seeing the look of pure desperation on Sam's face, Dean stepped in reassuring his little brother that he wouldn't let anything happen to him while he was upstairs and that everything would be alright as soon as this demon told them everything they needed to know.

Sam scoffed silently; it wasn't himself he was worried about if they let him out.

Hesitantly, Sam finally stepped into the basement and the men stomped up the stairs into the main house. John bringing up the rear closed the basement door behind him once they all reached the kitchen.

Once gathered in the kitchen, Dean grabbed his fathers' sleeve as he was about to walk into the library to start the summoning. John looked back at his son with annoyed curiosity, but didn't bother to speak.

That's when Dean handed his father the note that he had found with the girls' head. John grabbed the note from his sons' hands and his eyes scanned the paper quickly. He paused for a moment as he lifted his head, his face a mask of emptiness, and then he lowered his head and read the note over again.

"I'm gonna kill him next time." John swore under his breath angrily.

"Now hold on a sec, John." Bobby tried to reason, "I hate that son-of-a-bitch too, but he's still human."

"I don't care!" John snapped, "He came after my family, not once but twice! He's dead meat."

"What the hell are you guys talking about?" Sam wondered aloud as he wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"We were right, Sam. It was Gordon who came after you the other day." Dean told his brother truthfully.

"Me in particular?" Sam asked sounding slightly surprised, "Does he know about the curse?"

John and Dean exchanged pointed looks before turning back to Sam and nodding in unison.

John then held up the note in his hand as his angry eyes peered at his youngest son. "And telling from this note, it looks like Gordon was here tonight too…"

His voice trailed off as he swallowed the lump in his throat, finding it rather difficult to give Sam any more bad news.

"And…?" Sam asked, getting impatient.

"The dead body out there…it was the girl you -" Dean interjected before his voice failed him too.

"It was Kelly?" Sam asked sounding surprised, "Was she cursed?"

Again, John and Dean looked at each other hoping one or the other would be the one to break the news to Sam. He already had one bombshell dropped on him tonight. They weren't sure how he would take this. So John and Dean looked back at Sam, and nodded solemnly.

More tears sprang to Sam's eyes as he nodded to himself slowly.

"I examined her body myself before torching it." Dean said in a hoarse emotional voice, "She had claws…and Gordon's note said that she killed her boyfriend."

The truth was, Sam didn't know Kelly all that well. It sucked that she had died, it truly did. But he wasn't upset because he became attached. He wept because he had taken some innocent girl, and cursed her…for nothing. It was his fault she was dead – it was his fault her boyfriend was dead. And Sam hadn't even known she had a boyfriend!

Seeing the hopeless look on Sam's face as more tears fell from his dark golden eyes, Bobby was filled with a hard determination. He grabbed Sam's shoulder, causing the kid to look at him sadly. Truthfully, Bobby's heart wanted to break then and there from that look – it was as if the weight of the world had once rested on his shoulders…and then let it down. He looked_ that_ desperate.

Bobby swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat forcefully before speaking. "Come on. Let's go summon this demon, and try and fix this."

Sam looked over at Dean and his father for a reassuring look, but found John's face a blank canvas. His brother on the other hand wasn't looking back at him, but at Bobby and nodded curtly.

A little ray of hope shone through, as well as in inkling of terror. Maybe this demon could tell them how to fix what was happening to him, make him human. But then again…this is a demon – it also had the potential to make things much, _much_ worse.

**xXx**

John and Dean Winchester stood shoulder to shoulder in Bobby's library, both with their arms crossed over their chests as they stared down at the chalk-drawn symbol on the hardwood floor. Sam sat in Bobby's chair that was usually behind the desk but was now stuck in the corner of the room, while the desk was moved to the wall to make more room for the Devil's Trap and everyone that would want to take turns at interrogating this demon.

Bobby on the other hand stood just outside the Devil's Trap which was drawn on the ceiling, directly in front of the roaring fireplace – which was the only light in the room. In his hand was a piece of paper with Latin scribbled sloppily on it; he held his hands at his sides and his eyes scanned the room warily once he had ceased reciting the words on the paper.

It had only been a minute, but so far nothing had happened.

"Where is this son-of-a-bitch?" Dean asked impatiently with a long drawn out sigh.

"I dunno." John replied sounding a little disappointed, "Should we pack it up?"

"You wanna pack it up?" Sam asked with wide eyes, almost sounding alarmed as his claws dug into the arm of the chair.

"Yes. I think it's clear this bastard's not coming." John said with clear authority lacing each word.

Dean looked over at his father and nodded with a sigh. "Fine."

John rolled his eyes and bent down as he reached for the contents inside the symbol that was used for the demon summoning but paused before his hand grasped the stone-carved bowl when he heard the clicking of Dean's gun just beside him.

His head snapped up to see Dean pointing his .45 at his head with a cautious grin on his face. John raised his hands in surrender and widened his eyes at his son as he stood up straight.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" John demanded, clearly startled.

"You can stop pretending, now." Dean snapped, the pistol in his hands unwavering.

John looked past Dean and saw that Bobby and Sam also kept their eyes fixed on him. Bobby had dropped the paper in his hands, and folded his arms over his chest as he glared at John with clear amusement. Sam on the other hand had relaxed back into the chair as he took in deep calming breaths.

"Pretending?" John asked sounding alarmed, "What the hell are you talking about, Dean? Put the gun down!"

"Not likely." Dean spat as he grabbed his father by the sleeve of his jacket, and shoved him into the center of the Devil's Trap in front of the fireplace.

"What?" John asked giving a half-smile, "You think I'm possessed?"

"Oh we know you are." Dean replied confidently as he clicked the safety back on his pistol, and hid it from sight in his waistband, "See…my dad offered his body up just so we could get down to brass-tax without you hurting anyone. And trust me…you won't be."

At Dean's words, John's shoulders relaxed and his smile turned from a hostile one to a smug one as his blue eyes suddenly flashed black.

"Is that so?" The demon asked dangerously.

"Yea." Dean said with a smug smile of his own as he went to the corner where Sam sat, and gathered a white bucket that was filled with water. He stomped over to where he was standing before, and emptied the contents of the bucket on the creature that was in his fathers' skin.

Instantly, John screamed a bloodcurdling scream as his skin began to steam and blister harshly when the holy water touched his body.

"So…" The demon panted as it desperately tried to breathe, its beady black eyes trained on Sam, "I've been had, it seems."

No one said anything. Dean stood there at the ready holding the bucket in his hands still, while Sam kept his eyes fixed on the demon guardedly. Bobby on the other hand had gathered his leather-bound journal and kept it open to the demon exorcism page.

"Sammy…" The demon cooed, sending chills up Sam's spine. He hoped no one ever said his name like that ever again, "How ironic...you becoming something you hunt."

"That's so funny." Dean interjected as he lowered the bucket to the ground, "That's actually why we called you here."

"Oh, what a coincidence!" The demon said with obvious sarcasm.

"You're gonna tell us about the curse that Elizabeth Godrick put on her husband. You're gonna tell us how to fix this, and get him back to normal." Dean demanded, the humor now gone from his voice.

"Oh I am, am I?" The demon chuckled.

"You are." Dean replied bluntly, "Or we send you straight back to Hell."

"Is that the best you can do, boy?" The demon instigated with a daring smirk, "Where's your imagination?"

"You really want me to put my imagination into hurting you?" Dean asked with a mirthless chuckle, "I could…but I don't see any need for this to get nasty just yet."

"I could make it nasty." The demon inside John offered sounding almost alarmingly seductive.

Dean backed away a half-step with a look of alarm on his face. "Um…ew…no, thank you."

The demon backed off then and shrugged in humorous defeat. "Your loss."

"Enough fooling around!" Sam snapped as he rose to his feet, his wolf eyes fixed on the demon in his fathers' skin, "Tell us how to fix me."

At the sight of Sam in the light, the demon started actually laughing so hard that tears sprang to his eyes as he grasped at his stomach.

Bobby and Dean moved in at either of Sam's sides to back him up as the demon started to straighten himself up and compose himself.

"I-I'm sorry!" The demon cried as his laughter died into chuckles, "…I didn't realize h-how far along…you were in this already, Sammy."

Another chill crept up Sam's spine, but he bit down a growl as he kept his threatening gaze on the thing possessing his father.

Suddenly the demons composure completely changed from loose and giddy to threatening and serious. "It must be so hard for you…feeling that other thing in your head claw at your being every second of every day trying to take control. You can feel it, can't you? It's getting stronger…"

Sam gulped, but didn't reply. Dean looked at Sam's distress, and quickly stepped in.

"Enough! Tell us what we need to know, right now."

As emphasis, Bobby grabbed another bucket of holy water from the same corner Dean had gotten the other bucket. Only, Bobby put this bucket down instead of tossing it on the demon. He then went to the desk that was pushed against the wall, and retrieved an empty whiskey glass that he had been using as a paper weight.

With the glass in hand, Bobby walked over toward where he left the bucket, and dipped the glass into the bucket – filling the whiskey glass full of holy water.

"I'm not gonna ask you twice." Bobby said threateningly as he held the glass up so the demon could see. "Tell us how to fix Sam, right now…and you won't have to know what this feels like going down your throat."

The demon eyed Bobby warily, searching the older man for a bluff, and when he saw how serious Bobby was – the demon gulped.

"Fine." The demon ground out grudgingly.

"Good choice." Bobby remarked, still not faltering.

"None of you will be happy with it." The demon noted with a shadow of a smile creeping on his face, "It will be _painful_."

"Go on." Sam ordered angrily.

"Being a witch just on principal alone is a slippery one-way ticket to Hell." The demon explained, "From what I understand, when Elizabeth Godrick made the deal with the other demon…she sold her soul over to that demon in particular – and that's a big deal."

"How so?" Bobby egged on, seemingly interested.

"Think about it old man!" The demon continued with an eye-roll, "Having a regular human soul as your personal pet is one thing, but if you had a witch to torture and push to certain limits…it signifies ranks. Having a witch for you to convert gives you certain…Free Pass on some things."

"What kind of Free Pass?" Dean wondered aloud.

"You don't wanna know, Sport. Let's just leave it at that." The demon promised with a coy smirk, "So usually, we don't wait with witches to collect their souls if the opportunity springs up. But this demon gave the witch ten years just like anyone else, anyways…I don't know why; maybe the son-of-a-bitch was feeling sympathetic or something that day. But during the witch's last ten years she had a child with another man…as I've come to understand."

"She had a child?" Dean asked sounding surprised.

"Yes…a son who she named Jeremiah…after her late husband." The demon remarked with a giddy smile, "She then killed the father of her unborn child and left him to rot in the woods. Elizabeth then went and told her townspeople that she had conceived before her husband died, and they bought it – letting her live another day."

"What does that mean?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Back then, kid – if women went and had kids with no father they were accused of witchcraft, you moron." The demon replied with an eye-roll, "Anyways…she taught her son everything she knew about witchcraft. And from what I've heard, the kid was a chip off the old block. Sooo…long story short – Elizabeth was dragged to Hell, and Jeremiah was left to have kids of his own and so on and so forth."

"And…what does this have to do with helping Sam?" Bobby asked impatiently.

"Basically…he has to kill the one who cast the curse." The demon explained.

"You're serious?" Dean asked with disbelief, "That's it?"

"Not just kill the originator…but eat his heart. And you're actually quite lucky. Each line in the family has only ever had one son, so the last name stuck throughout the years."

"Seriously?" Sam asked suddenly alarmed. Why did this all seem way too easy to him? There had to be a catch…there always was.

"But there's a catch…" The demon continued with an excited smile plastered on his face, Sam stiffened but wasn't the least bit surprised, "The originators' only surviving heir…is only five years old."

Sam's eyes widened in terror and his breath held still in his chest. He couldn't bring himself to kill a child. He knew he couldn't do it.

"What's his name?" Dean asked harshly.

"Dean!" Sam argued, "I'm not gonna kill a kid!"

"You may not have a choice!" Dean snapped angrily.

Suddenly, before their attention could be turned back toward the demon – John's mouth opened wide and a loud scream was heard throughout the room as a large cloud of black smoke ejected itself from John's mouth toward the ceiling.

When the smoke was out of John Winchester, he crumbled to the ground in an unconscious heap as the demon fled through the fireplace and up the chimney, leaving the strong scent of sulfur in its wake.

"I can't kill a kid." Sam repeated as more tears glistened in his eyes.

"We'll talk it over once your dad gets up." Bobby promised sympathetically as he placed a gentle hand on Sam's tense shoulder.

Dread filtered through Sam's being at the thought of killing a child and eating his heart. He looked down at his blood-soaked shirt and thought of it as a childs' blood.

An awful shudder ripped through him at the thought…there was no argument though, Sam knew that he couldn't kill a child. Not even to save his life.

* * *

_Oh man...am I terrible for leaving it off this way? Hmm...Haha. :D_


	13. Hope Is Gone

_Chapter 13_

* * *

After showering and changing his clothes, Sam sat in the Salvage Yard for the remainder of the night thinking things over. He had walked his way through the maze of cars for what seemed like forever, until he came across the Car Graveyard where the dead body was placed just last night.

It still reeked of death and blood, Sam noted – along with the potent scent of ashes, and fire. Probably when Dean torched the corpse, Sam recalled.

Part of him found the scent of death to be actually somewhat inviting. He wanted to curl up in that space and hide out there, until the scent eventually faded. But Sam fought that part of him too hard, without another thought he turned past the towers and checked out the rest of the Graveyard.

He knew what Dean and their father would say to him later, and he just didn't want to face it. He knew that they would say he didn't have a choice, and they would have to trust the demons' word. They had to test the theory out. But Sam didn't want to do it. He didn't think he could. How could his father and brother ask him to kill a child and eat his heart?

Sam sighed to himself as he kicked his feet through the dirt lazily. Trust a demon to make a cure that was completely sadistic.

Sam noticed that the sun was starting to rise as the sky became a lighter shade of purple, and the dark clouds were beginning to roll away slowly.

Suddenly, an abrupt ringing coming from Sam's pocket made him jump nervously. He instantly relaxed when he realized it was his cellphone. He exhaled sharply to calm his shakiness as he reached into his pocket and retrieved his Blackberry.

His brothers' number flashed on the screen and Sam rolled his eyes as he pressed the green button and held it to his ear.

"What?" He asked sharply.

_"Where the hell did you go?" _Dean asked heatedly, _"Did you happen to forget that a raging psychopath is after you?"_

"No, I didn't forget, Dean. I have my gun." Sam reassured sounding tired.

_"Well dad's awake and wants to talk; it's time for you to head back anyway." _

"Fine." Sam said in defeat, "I'll be there soon."

Without waiting for a response, Sam hung up on his brother and slid his phone back into his pocket as he started walking back.

In all honesty, Gordon Walker was the last thing on Sam's mind. His mind was a little preoccupied with the whole killing a child to save his own life idea.

But wouldn't Gordon just _love_ to know that that's what Dean and John were planning to save his life? Sam rolled his eyes and ignored that thought as he quickened his pace back toward the house.

Sam suddenly came to an abrupt halt at the sudden cocking of a gun coming from just behind him. His eyes narrowed as he thought of a way to get his gun out of his waistband without drawing attention.

He slowly turned around to face his captor and wasn't the least bit surprised to see Gordon Walker standing a couple feet in front of him holding his shotgun at the ready, pointed directly at Sam's chest.

"Heya, Sammy." Gordon greeted with a half smile, "Long time, no see."

Sam shrugged and kept his face relatively blank as he eyed Gordon suspiciously. "Can't say it's a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise." Gordon spat back as his smile faded. His eyes traveled up and down Sam's form slowly as if he were evaluating his opponent. Now he could see just how much this curse had changed Sam. And Gordon knew it still wasn't done.

"So how'd you know where to find me?" Sam wondered aloud, not taking his intent golden eyes from Gordon.

Gordon shrugged, but the gun in his hands never wavered. "An anonymous tip."

"That's…vague." Sam commented, still rather curious.

"All he said was someone called him from here asking about The Beast of Bray Road lore…and that he found out about you, and said I had to take you out." Gordon explained, "I wasn't complaining. I mean…I know about your psychic abilities too, Sammy. And if you hadn't gotten hit with this curse, I'd have still been the one to take your ass out, you demon freak."

Sam lifted his upper lip into a snarl, and Gordon caught sight of his incisors, which were once rounded and dull – were now pointed and sharp.

Gordon adjusted the shot gun in his hands, and looked at Sam with a mask of pure revulsion on his face.

**xXx**

John Winchester sat on the couch rubbing his throbbing head slowly as he talked to Bobby about what happened while he was possessed. His eyes widened when Bobby spoke about the cure. Finally, they had one in their grasp…but he doubted Sam would be able to do it on his own. Maybe if that animal in his mind took over, that thing would kill that child with little thought.

But John knew he couldn't do that to his son. That was completely unethical, and he knew it. It would be taking advantage of Sam's situation.

However, he wasn't sure of any other option.

Just then Dean came into the living room with his phone grasped tightly in his hand, and a worried look on his face as his eyebrows rammed together.

"What's up?" John groaned tiredly.

"Sammy should have been back by now. I should go after him." Dean muttered.

"Dean, you just hung up with him. Give him a minute." John said with an eye-roll.

Just then, Bobby's home phone rang out loudly from the kitchen causing Bobby to swear under his breath and race into the other room to answer the call.

Dean just stared his father down intently.

"I'm going after him." Dean announced as he headed toward the front door, "I think something's wrong."

Without waiting for a response, Dean opened the door and stepped outside, slamming the front door shut behind him as he went out to look for his brother.

**xXx**

Sam and Gordon still stood in the Salvage Yard staring each other down intently. Gordon held his gun in front of him, and was about to fire it when Sam spoke up with more questions. It was apparent to Gordon that Sam was stalling. Maybe he thought someone would come and rescue him.

And they would, Gordon knew. Sam was all Dean and John had and he knew it. If little Sammy was away from the nest for too long, one or both of them would come looking for him.

Gordon had to get this over with, and soon. But he had to get one thing off his chest first.

"I thought you were a hunter." Gordon spat at Sam angrily, "At least that's how I know you were raised. I mean I know you won't be soon, but that's what you were."

"What's your point?" Sam snapped.

"You knew you were cursed the minute you got sight of those claws…why didn't you take yourself out?" Gordon questioned.

Admittedly, Sam didn't have an answer. He knew he probably should have, and now that this cure had come to surface, Sam considered it now more than ever.

But then he would think of his father, and his brother, and Bobby. He remembered when he was weak with a raging fever as he laid in the bathtub full of ice. He remembered what he promised Dean, and what Dean said back to him and it filled him with a small amount of hope.

_"'M not giving up." Sam mumbled weakly._

_"Me neither, dude." Dean reassured in a hoarse voice._

"I have people watching my back." Sam told Gordon a little more calmly, "They make sure I don't get outta line."

To Sam's surprise Gordon actually started laughing as if he had said something humorous. "They're not doing a very good job, Sammy. I _saw_ what you did to that girl last night. I left her as a warning! Not a snack!"

Suddenly, there was a loud 'BANG' of a gunshot coming from just behind Sam, causing him to jump in surprise. But he instantly relaxed when he heard Gordon scream in agony and drop his weapon as he himself sank to the dirt ground as he grasped at his right shoulder.

Sam turned around to get a look at who had saved him, and sighed with relief when he saw Dean storming toward them with his pistol held out in front of him, pointed at Gordon. His face contorted in pure rage that Sam hadn't seen in a long time.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right here and now." Dean spat spitefully as he approached Sam's side, with his eyes fixed on Gordon non-blinkingly.

Gordon said nothing as he looked up at Dean grudgingly, still keeping a tight hold on his bleeding shoulder with his shotgun lying at his feet.

"He's human, Dean." Sam tried to reason as he breathed through his mouth trying not to get a scent of Gordon's blood as he remembered last night.

"He's a moron!" Dean yelled, shaking his gun as emphasis.

"Just let it go, Dean!" Sam yelled, now desperate to get out of there.

Dean saw the hurried look on his little brothers' face and nodded curtly. He then turned his face back toward Gordon and grumbled. It looked like this bastard would live to torment them another day. But not before Dean roughed him up a little more.

Taking aim at another spot on Gordon's body, before anyone could protest or before Dean lost his nerve – he fired a shot directly into Gordon's right leg, just above his kneecap.

"Let's go, Sam." Dean muttered as he bent down and took Gordon's gun.

Appreciative that Dean let Gordon live, Sam nodded and both Sam and Dean headed back toward Bobby's house. Neither of them spoke during the walk as they listened to Gordon's howls of pain in the distance.

**xXx**

When Dean and Sam arrived at the house moments later, Bobby and John were instantly at the door to see if the boys were alright. John looked angrier than Bobby did, but that was because John told Dean it would be best to stay behind.

But his look of anger faded suddenly when he saw the shotgun that wasn't his, nor Dean's in his sons hand.

"What happened?" John demanded.

Dean then went off telling Bobby and John about how when he got to Sam, Gordon Walker had a gun on him. But he scared him off with a shot in the shoulder and another in the leg. Unbeknownst to them, John was filled with pride at the lengths Dean was willing to go to protect his brother – his family. But John's face however, was a mask of emptiness as he listened to his sons' recollection.

"So I think Gordon's taken care of…for the time being at least." Dean commented as he rested Gordon's shotgun against the wall next to the front door, and slid his own pistol back into his waistband.

"That should keep him off our trail for a little while." Bobby muttered, seemingly deep in thought, "But you know he'll be back."

"Yea, I figured as much." Dean agreed with a stiff nod, "But when he is, I'll just have to shoot him again…but next time it won't be in the shoulder or leg."

"Ya know…last time Gordon paid a visit here, I shot him in his left shoulder." John recalled with a humorous chuckle, "You think he would've learned something."

"Stubborn bastard." Dean muttered to himself as he took a seat on the couch. Sam kept his eyes fixed on Dean and sighed as he followed his brother to the couch and sat down next to him.

"Gordon said that someone who we called to help look for any information on The Beast called him." Sam finally spoke up, his eyes now fixed on his father and Bobby. "Who did we call?"

Bobby immediately made a grab for his hat, and ran his fingers over his balding head as he muttered something to himself.

"Well…only three of four people, honestly." Bobby admitted, "And I know for a fact it wasn't Ellen, or Jo."

"What makes you say that?" John asked suddenly alert. He still hadn't squared things with Ellen. As a matter of fact, he wasn't sure he could really bring himself to look her in the eye after what happened with her husband.

Guilt immediately filled John's being at the thought of Bill Harvelle. He was a great hunter, and a good man. He certainly didn't deserve what happened to him.

"Well for one…" Bobby began with a wary eye on John as if he knew what he was thinking, "They want in. They heard about what's happening to Sam, and they wanna help us get him normal again."

"How'd they hear?" John snapped suddenly very fearful for his sons' life. How had this information gotten around, and who had it gotten to? Where other hunters going to come after him? Was Gordon just the tip of the iceberg?

"She didn't say." Bobby mumbled.

"Tell them thanks, but no." John said sternly, "Sam is not some sideshow freak to be gawked at! This is a family issue, and we'll deal with it our way!"

"What way?" Sam suddenly chimed in, "You gonna have me rip some kids heart out? Is that the way you're talking about?"

"I don't know yet, son." John said honestly as he gave Sam a firm look, "But if that's what it comes down to, then yes."

"You would ask me to kill a kid?" Sam asked rhetorically, knowing the answer all too well.

"We'll think of something, Sammy." Dean promised, his voice small as he kept his eyes averted to the ground. "We'll look for something else."

"We may not have much time left." Sam said solemnly.

Dean sighed deeply as he thought of a way to lighten his brothers' spirits, but he knew that it wouldn't happen like that. He knew that Sam, and even the demon was right when they said that he was losing himself. And it wouldn't be much longer.

"When will Ellen and Jo get here?" Dean asked Bobby, trying to keep his voice leveled.

"They said sometime tomorrow." Bobby replied soberly, "But still…we outta be on the lookout for anyone else."

Dean knew he was right. But he hoped that the news about what was happening to Sam hadn't spread to other hunters. Maybe it was really only Gordon and Ellen who knew.

But who was he kidding? Dean thought to himself, miserably. Hoping wasn't getting him anywhere these days. Luck it seemed, had abandoned them.

Dean cast a curious look over to his father, who also seemed uncomfortable. And somehow Dean knew that his father was thinking the exact same thing he was.

But then again, last time Dean saw Ellen and Jo was when Jo had followed Sam and Dean on a hunt for a particularly violent spirit, against her mothers' wishes. Jo ended up getting kidnapped by the spirit, and (just their luck) that was when Ellen found out that Jo had lied to her and gone with them.

She called Dean in a rage, and he had no choice but to tell her what happened to Jo. He listened guiltily as Ellen's anger melted into panic as she informed him she would be there soon to collect her daughter.

And sure enough, by the time Sam and Dean had rescued Jo and put the spirit to rest – Ellen was waiting for them in the apartment they rented.

Later when they got back to the Roadhouse, Ellen told Jo that her father – Bill Harvelle had gone off on a hunt with other hunter before he died. She said how weird it was because usually both men worked alone, so they guessed they figured that just this once they could trust each other.

As it turned out, John Winchester had gone on Bill Harvelle's last hunt with him. He was there when Bill died.

Neither Dean nor Sam found it in them to ask their father about this, but instead never spoke of that information ever again.

But now that John and Ellen were forced to meet again face to face, Dean couldn't help but wonder what tomorrows encounter would bring.

* * *

_This chapter was pretty hard to write actually. Haha. I hope everything came across like I hoped it would. :)_

_Lemmie know what you think! _


	14. A Dangerous Mind

_Chapter 14_

* * *

The rest of the day, Sam, Dean, John and Bobby basically walked around the house in a daze. All of them spent hours with their noses buried in books, looking for answers. But as they thought, they didn't come across anything new.

Sam decided to call it an early night that day because his lower back was really giving him problems. It felt like someone had kicked him right in the base of his spine. It was enough to make him cringe every time he sat down. So without talking to Dean or his father or Bobby about it, he just decided to sleep it off.

The following morning, Dean, John, and Bobby were up rather early knowing that Ellen and Jo would be there sometime that day, they just didn't know when that day.

The three men stood in the kitchen in uncomfortable silence as they each held a full coffee mug in their hands. John and Bobby stood with their backs pressed against the counter while Dean had his back at the table.

Truth be told, Dean didn't really get a good night's sleep last night. The whole time he would turn over from his makeshift bed on the floor on the living room to check on Sam who was sleeping deeply on the couch, just to check on him and make sure the kid was okay.

But then around three in the morning, Dean abandoned his attempts at sleep and had been on his feet ever since. He wasn't used to sleeping much more than three or four hours a night anyways.

John on the other hand, hadn't slept at all - he hadn't even attempted to. He just sat in the library pouring himself over about thirty different books. John had given up searching for The Beast of Bray Road and was now looking through Demonology texts to see if just by chance, one of the demons listed stayed around Wisconsin. Just so John could have that name at least.

But as usual, no such luck.

This morning in particular was actually pretty overcast. Bobby informed John and Dean that the forecast called for showers a little later, but for now it was just dark and cloudy. So of course there wasn't much light being let into the house, even for seven-thirty in the morning.

Taking in a deep breath, Dean turned his gaze toward his father as he sipped at his black coffee absently. He hoped his father started up a conversation soon, he wasn't sure he liked this silence. Hell, he didn't even care if John barked out an order, just as long as he spoke. But Dean noticed that he hadn't said much more than a couple of one-word sentences since Bobby told them that Ellen and Jo were coming.

Finally after almost an hour of maddening silence, Bobby cleared his throat loudly and spoke up. "So when are we gonna wake Sam up?"

Dean placed his mug on the counter, and sighed as he still kept his eyes on his father. "I'll do it."

With a weary eye-roll, Dean slipped into the next room where Sam was sleeping and got a look at his kid brother before disturbing his sleep.

In sleep, Sam looked almost normal as his hands were tucked beneath the pillow that propped his head up on the arm of the couch. His long brown mop of hair covered his pointed ears, and of course his eyes were closed – hiding the intent golden wolf-like eyes.

Dean wished in that moment that Sam didn't have to deal with this. If only he had been the one to get bitten instead of Sam. The kid wasn't equipped to handle something like this, he was too sensitive. His family was all aware of his sensitivity, and John actually used to give him a lot of crap for it.

He would yell and ridicule him for never participating in the actual kill. Sure Sammy would help with the hunts, do the research – things like that. But when it came to actually killing something, he wouldn't do it unless he honestly had no choice.

So now, here he was with two options. Number one, kill a child and eat his heart to rid himself of the curse and restore his humanity…or number two, he could let the curse take him. He could do nothing, and change into a monster – which he knew would ultimately result in a bullet to the head or heart from his brother, or his father.

Dean knew that he couldn't do it. No matter what form his little brother was in, no matter if he was lost in the subconscious of that animal for as long as that monster lived – he knew he couldn't kill Sam.

Sam made a small noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a mix between a grunt and a sigh as he rolled over onto his stomach and kicked off his thin blanket with a look of discomfort etched on his face. Once the blanket was in a heap on the floor, Sam's face relaxed as he slipped back into his sleep.

That's when Dean noticed something…weird.

Sam wore his gray boxers, and white t-shirt to sleep that night when usually he wore sweat pants. At first, honestly Dean hadn't thought anything of it. But now as he slowly approached his brother he saw much to his surprise why Sam may have been uncomfortable wearing sweat pants.

Dean's eyebrows mended together in genuine confusion.

Beneath his boxers and just above his buttocks was a lump that was actually moving back and forth. But that wasn't all, Dean noticed. Sam's long legs were covered in long, thick hair – not normal hair which was usually there. This was thicker, and darker, and in random patches in the back of Sam's leg, behind his knees, and even on his ankles.

But Dean was honestly more concerned with the moving lump in Sam's shorts! He had his suspicions, but he prayed he was wrong.

Careful not to wake his brother, Dean lowered his hands to the elastic of Sam's boxers that wrapped around his waist.

"Sorry, Sammy." Dean muttered to his sleeping brother, "This isn't what it looks like."

Slowly and gently, Dean then lowered Sam's shorts until the lump was revealed, but stopped before Sam's rear-end was in view. Dean's eyes opened wide as his suspicions were confirmed.

Dean saw that what caused the lump was actually a growth at the base of Sam's spine. It looked like a stump-like tail that you would see on a Manx cat…and that's when it clicked in Dean's brain.

The pain Sam had been talking about at the base of his spine made sense, Dean realized as he looked down at the red, raw, naked stub moving back and forth in a slow relaxed rhythm…it was a _tail_.

Quickly tearing his eyes away from it, Dean replaced Sam's boxers around his waist and then shuffled off into the kitchen where his father and Bobby were waiting for him looking bemused.

"Where's Sam?" Bobby spoke up, putting his mug of coffee to his face and taking a long sip.

"Sleeping." Dean said instantly.

"You went in there to wake him up, didn't you?" Bobby asked him, looking at Dean sympathetically…like a doctor would look at his mentally ill patient.

"Oh…right." Dean replied sounding monotone, his eyes still wide as he looked back and forth between his father and Bobby.

"Oh, right?" John asked, startling Dean a little, "What's going on?"

Taking in a deep breath to calm his shaking hands, Dean gave his father a pitiful look that sent his fear into overdrive to see such a look on Dean's face. John knew only two things could make Dean look so helpless; one – something happened to him (his father), and two – something happened to Sammy.

"Sam he uh…" Dean's words trailed off as he tried to think of a way to word what he had seen properly. But he was coming up empty. How could you possibly tell someone that your little brother was growing a freaking tail?

"He uh…?" John egged on impatiently.

"Sammy's growing a tail." Dean just spat out, flinching at his own words as if they had physically caused him harm.

Both John and Bobby glared at him in disbelief, which only angered Dean. Did they really not believe him? Why would he make such a thing up? They could go out there and see for themselves if they didn't believe him!

"A tail?" Bobby asked incredulously.

"Yes, a friggin tail!" Dean snapped suddenly more angry than he was poignant, "I know what a tail looks like, guys! Go look for yourselves if you don't believe me!"

With that, Dean stormed back into the living room where Sam was still fast asleep on the couch. He wasn't surprised when he heard his fathers' and Bobby's footfalls behind him.

To prove his point, Dean pointed to Sam's lower half silently. John's and Bobby's eyes averted to the wagging stump of a tail with wide eyes.

John moved toward his sleeping youngest carefully to get a better look. He did exactly what Dean had done just moments ago; he lowered Sam's boxers just to the point where he could see his sons' latest development. He – like Dean didn't seem as concerned about the thick hair as he was about the tail.

Seeing what his oldest said was true, John sighed as he rearranged Sam's underwear so he was completely covered up again.

And that's when Sam decided to open his sleep-filled eyes.

He yawned tiredly, exposing his sharper and now slightly longer incisors to his family before closing his mouth and shifting his eyes to look at everyone blearily.

"Wha'ssup?" Sam slurred sleepily as he sat up slowly.

Nobody missed his visible wince when he sat up fully. Sam's hand reached around to see what was making it so uncomfortable for him to sit properly, gasped loudly when he touched the raw skin on his new tail.

His wide golden eyes found his brother who was staring back at him sympathetically.

"When – um…" Sam begun in a whisper, his voice catching on his nervous breath abruptly, "When are Ellen and Jo getting here?"

"Sometime today was all they said." Dean replied in an equally low whisper, "But we should keep looking, before they get here."

Sam nodded and quickly got to his feet. Once standing, he was suddenly overtaken by a rush of vertigo and his mind went into a haze as his vision doubled.

Dean didn't miss Sam's distant look or his wavering form. "Sammy?"

Suddenly, Sam collapsed onto the ground with a loud _'thud'_. Instantly, Dean, Bobby, and John were kneeling at his side as his unfocused golden eyes swerved around the room.

"Sam!" Dean called as he gently smacked Sam's face to get his eyes to focus on him and tell him what was wrong.

But in that instant, Sam broke out into a heavy sweat as the beaded liquid ran down his face and neck. Dean placed a hand on Sam's forehead, and immediately pulled it back.

"His fever's back." Dean announced sounding alarmed.

"Bathroom?" John wondered aloud worriedly.

"N-n-n-no!" Sam ground out between his violent shivers, "P-p-p-panic R-r-room!"

"What?" Dean demanded sounding surprised, "Why?"

To Dean's terror, Sam suddenly mustered up enough strength to grab the collar of his shirt and yank him down so that they were eye to eye with each other. Sam's gaze looked full of rage, and a certain frenzy Dean had never seen in his little brother before.

"Panic Room!" Sam ordered loudly, a deep threatening growl underlining his words, "NOW!"

Dean immediately understood what Sam was getting at the moment he released the collar of his shirt with a shove. He felt the thing seeping into his consciousness, and he didn't want to hurt anyone while he was out.

Without thought, Dean grabbed at Sam's upper half from beneath his armpits while John grabbed Sam's lower half from behind his knees. With Sam in their firm grasps, Bobby led them into the kitchen and to the door that led to the basement.

He then grabbed the doorknob, and yanked the door open so Dean and John didn't have to stop with their load who was now beginning to squirm in their hold.

"Hang on, Sammy." John pleaded in a whisper as he led Dean with Sam's upper half down the stairs without pausing.

Finally down in the basement, Sam's struggles and turned into full on thrashing and growling. Without having being told, Bobby instantly opened the large iron door that led to the Panic Room. Once there, John and Dean placed Sam down on the cement floor and made a break for the door, both were surprised when Sam actually got up and chased them out.

The moment John and Dean were outside of the Panic Room safely, John slammed the thick iron door shut right in Sam's face – earning him a long and loud frustrated howl.

Both in a sweat, and breathing hard from exertion, Dean and John opened the slot in the door to take a gander at Sam inside the room.

Both of them looked upon the wild animal that rode in Sam's skin with anger and sadness. 'Sam' was standing at the door still, even though it had shut in his face, as he watched them watching him.

A sadistic smirk formed on Sam's lips, showing off his sharpened teeth – which was just wrong, Dean thought to himself as tears started to form in his eyes.

"Didn't I tell you I'd be back?" 'Sam' growled dangerously.

Dean looked at what had become of his little brother with great trepidation, as his tears finally spilled over and ran freely down his cheeks.

The thought of Sam locked somewhere in his own mind made Dean sick to his stomach. However, he couldn't help but wonder how long it would be for Sammy to find his way back to them this time.

* * *

_I seem to have put Sam in a bit of another predicament haven't I? Oh dear...Haha. _

_But, unfortunately with this chapter I bring bad news. As most of you know Easter is just around the corner, and I am being forced to go away with my parentals for the break. I am however, bringing my laptop so maybe I can get a little bit done while I'm away. I leave Wednesday, so after Tuesday my updates will be pretty slow. :(_

_On another note - silverwolf1414, You have been reviewing literally every chapter, and you always say really kind things about my writing. I'm not one for singling people out usually, but you sign anonymously so I can never reply to you! Grr. Haha. Anyway - thank you, hon. Your words are very encouraging. _

_Basically that goes for everyone - I haven't gotten any bad reviews on this, so thank you to everyone who has reviewed! :D_


	15. Time Is Running Out

_Chapter 15_

* * *

Bobby and John decided they didn't need to see Sam like this again; honestly it was more so that they didn't think they could bare it - so they went upstairs to go look for something else to try and help him. Bobby thought it best to give Ellen another call to see how far away she was.

Dean on the other hand, stayed in the basement watching his brother as he circled the room slowly for almost an hour and a half – looking for weak spots in his cage where he could escape from. Every time Dean heard 'Sam' give a frustrated growl he took it as a good sign.

During this time, after what seemed like forever – Dean noticed certain subtle physical changes happening with Sam, causing Dean's breath to hitch in fear.

First of all, Dean noticed that when Sam growled he bared his teeth at the invisible threat. His incisors had grown from normal sized sharp points, to relevant fangs that looked equally as deadly as his claws.

And then second, was the tail. This morning it was nothing more than a red, raw skinned, stub. But now, hours later it was a legit rat-like hairless tail that snaked out of the left leg hole in his boxers.

It seemed that _thing_ was right last time when it said every time it was in control the transformation quickened, Dean thought to himself grudgingly.

Dean refused to think about the fact that Sam was beginning to look more like a wild animal than a human being.

Not much longer after giving up his searching, 'Sam' sat down on the cot with his legs folded beneath him as his intent golden eyes pierced the door where he knew Dean was watching him.

To Dean's surprise, 'Sam' actually sighed and then started talking to him. Instinctively, like Dean did with any creature he wasn't sure of – he put his guard up.

"You know I don't want to hurt you, Dean." 'Sam' said almost sympathetically, "I told you that I have the memories of my human side. You're still my brother."

"You're not him." Dean said flatly.

"This is stupid, Dean!" 'Sam' said a little louder, his frustration clear, "You know I'm going to win! Sam won't be able to kill that kid and you know it! So why don't the two of us just leave, get the hell outta here – start our own pack, just you and me!"

Now as tempting as that sounded, Dean had to admit – he knew that it was wrong. His hunter instinct won out over all as he glared at the monster wearing his brothers' face.

"We'll fix you." Dean replied sounding completely sure of himself.

"You can't fix this!" 'Sam' bellowed loud enough through his small prison for his voice to echo off the walls, "There's only one way to end it, Dean and I won't do it. So…do you have any other fantastic ideas?"

Dean gave the thing a defensive smirk as he leaned closer to the door. "Don't get too comfy in my brothers' head, you son-of-a-bitch…I'm gonna kill you."

"Now _that_ I'd like to see." 'Sam' egged on with an eye-roll.

"You saying that I can't?" Dean challenged as he raised his eyebrows, tempting the monster.

"Dean, I said I didn't _want_ to hurt you…" 'Sam' replied with a weary sigh, "Not that I wouldn't. If it came down to my survival and your life…I'd kill you without thinking twice about it."

Dean understood that, actually. Survival was the number one basic instinct of any wild animal. Some humans were able to repress it though if it ever came to a loved one or a friend in danger. Animals on the other hand, especially wild ones…not so much. Still though, Dean would be lying if he said that those words coming from Sam's mouth hadn't wounded him deeply.

But Dean knew there was nothing natural about this thing. It was evil, plain and simple. This was a curse, and once this animal had taken over completely, and Sam's body was completely changed…Sam would be trapped in there until The Beast that took his body and mind were dead. Sam's soul would be trapped.

The thought stuck in Dean's mind for a moment, making his stomach ache. Was the best way to save Sam to kill him?

Suddenly, Dean's attention was turned to the basement door, as it slammed open and a series of loud footfalls coming down the stairs echoed through the basement.

To Dean's relief, he saw his father, Bobby, and Ellen descend into the room a moment later.

"Hey Ellen." Dean called with a sigh as they came closer to him.

"Good to see ya, boy." Ellen replied, "Sam in there?" She asked motioning toward the large iron door Dean was standing in front of.

Dean nodded curtly, and stepped aside for Ellen to get a look at his little brother for herself.

She stepped up to the slot hesitantly, and her jaw went lax in surprise as she stared at what had become of Sam Winchester.

"Son-of-a-bitch." She muttered in surprise as his dark eyes watched her hungrily.

"Has there been any change?" John asked Dean soberly, his eyes piercing his eldest son with hard authority.

"No sir, not in his behavior…" Dean replied honestly, "His um…his teeth though – they've grown some. And his uh…tail."

"It's getting faster." John muttered to himself. Everyone knew all too well that he meant the transformation.

"John, I don't think we got much longer." Ellen informed as she tore her eyes away from 'Sam' to look back at John and Bobby and Dean, "Even with Jo, Ash, and I on this too. There's no way we can get this done before he's done…changing."

"Where is Jo anyway? I thought she was coming with you." Dean wondered aloud.

Ellen chuckled mirthlessly as she fixed her gaze on Dean. "She left, Dean. I called her – told her where I was going and what I was doing with you boys. I asked her to keep an eye out for anything that could be useful. But what she does is her business."

"She left? Where to?" Dean asked sounding surprised.

"Minnesota, she runs a bar down there." Ellen replied.

"Okay, back on point!" John snapped angrily, avoiding looking Ellen in the eyes, "Ellen, we need to know how you found out about this."

Ellen looked back at John, and then toward the iron door. "Rufus." She replied.

"Rufus Turner?" Bobby asked sounding astounded, "That son-of-a-bitch!"

"Why?" Ellen wondered.

"He told me he couldn't take any further part in helping us because of what was happening to Sam. He said that the kid was hopeless, and something to be hunted." Bobby replied, "You think he told Gordon too?"

"I don't know…" John admitted, his fury reaching blinding levels, "But I'm gonna kill him."

"I'm gonna go give him a call." Bobby announced as he jogged up the basement steps.

Once Bobby was upstairs and out of view, everyone's attention was suddenly drawn to 'Sam' when he sighed deeply as if bored.

"Hm…I'm hungry." 'Sam' called with a half-chuckle.

"You'll get something to eat when you give me back my son!" John snapped.

"But _daaad!_" 'Sam' drawled out with a half-smile – revealing his long fangs Dean had told them about, "I _am_ your son!"

"Let me talk to your human side." John requested sincerely.

"You will soon." 'Sam' admitted with a long drawn out yawn, "This little visit took a lot out of me…but what can I say? I really missed hanging out with you guys."

"You bastard." John swore under his breath heatedly.

"I wonder what my body will be like for my next visit." 'Sam' asked aloud to no one in particular just to toy with John, "It seems every time I drop in, my body is just a little more adjusted to my way of life."

'Sam' chuckled, full of amusement as he finally got to his feet. "It won't be long now." He promised.

"That's not your body!" John told the creature fixedly.

"But it is my body!" 'Sam' promised threateningly as he slowly crept toward the door, "And sooner or later it'll be _all_ mine!"

'Sam's' eyes suddenly fluttered, and immediately he stopped walking and staggered backwards as if he couldn't hold himself upright anymore. He gasped and grabbed at his chest with a clawed hand as a shooting pain swept through it.

John watched with great concern as Sam suddenly lost his footing while his eyes glazed over. Before John could get the door open to help his son, Sam had collapsed in a heap on the cold floor with a loud _'thud'_ that echoed through the basement.

Wide-eyed and full of worry, John made a grab for the handle of the large iron door before him, but stopped when Ellen's hand came down on his – causing him to halt and send her a intimidating look.

"That's my son in there!" John argued crossly.

"Maybe, maybe not. Do you really wanna take that chance with your life, John?" Ellen rationalized sincerely.

John gave Dean a pointed look, and in unison they both nodded – silently agreeing with Ellen. John sighed and removed his hand from the handle while Dean approached the door to take a gander at his brother.

In the room, it looked as if Sam was out cold. He wasn't stirring, but his breathing was normal – much to Dean's relief.

"Sammy…" Dean called but his voice failed him and cracked as his emotions got the better of him, leaving a trail of tears from his eyes, "Can you hear me?"

At first, nothing happened. Sam remained on the ground motionless as if he hadn't heard Dean's call. Dean kept his eyes fixed on his brother intently, silently willing him to move.

Then Ellen placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and tugged lightly. Obliging to her motion, Dean turned to face her – his face turning from pleading and heartbreaking, to hard and angry.

"You look like you could use a break." Ellen commented, "Go tell Bobby to put a pot on. I'll stay down here and watch your brother."

"Not without Sam." Dean replied sternly as he wiped the wet tracks his tears had left on his cheeks.

Suddenly to Dean's relief, as if he had heard his declaration; Sam groaned as his head whipped back and forth slowly, finally coming too.

Hopefully, Dean turned around toward the door upon hearing his brother stir. "Sammy?"

"Y-yeah." Sam muttered tiredly, his voice hoarse and slightly strained.

Finally releasing the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, John opened the large door and rushed into the room to his youngest sons' side with Dean at his heel.

"How're you doing?" John asked Sam as he helped him up into a sitting position slowly.

Once up, Sam grimaced as a throbbing discomfort shot through his newly elongated tail as he appeared to be sitting on it.

"Feels like I got hit by a truck." Sam groaned truthfully as he grasped his forehead, hoping the dizziness would fade soon.

"Can you stand?" Dean asked Sam with wide eyes as he held Sam's back to keep him steady.

"I think so." Sam murmured as his eyes scrunched together as he concentrated on moving with his brothers' and fathers' movements as they helped him to his feet at a slow and supportive speed.

Once he was standing upright, he finally laid eyes on Ellen. He looked surprised to see her in the doorway at first, then his cheeks gained color as his surprise turned to embarrassment.

"Ellen." He grunted in greeting.

"Hey, Sam." She greeted back with a nod.

Sam nodded toward Ellen curtly as Dean and John finally get him moving toward the exit sluggishly.

He remembered what happened while that thing took control of him. He wished he didn't, but it kept him awake – made him see and feel what it was feeling. Sam felt its ravaging hunger every time it glanced at his brother and his father. As far as it was concerned, they were just meat – food. But it had told Dean that he should run away with it. Sam knew it was a trick. This monster was a solo monster, and he felt it. It thrived in being its own animal in the darkness – he _felt_ it.

Sam knew that if Dean had fallen for the beasts' words, it would have turned around and killed him. Thankfully, he didn't. Because Dean's not stupid, Sam thought to himself with a silent chuckle.

_'It was worth a shot.' It _retorted in his mind with a mental shrug as it disappeared into a dark corner of his mind – leaving Sam in charge again.

'And stay there!' Sam snapped at the animal mentally.

His words meant nothing though, and he knew it. This thing would definitely be back. It was only a matter of time.

**xXx**

It took a while, but finally getting Sam up the stairs and into the kitchen – John and Dean sat him down at the table so they could regain their breaths. Panting, they turned toward the threshold leading to the living room and saw Bobby staring back at them with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Got some weird news." Bobby informed, passively.

"We're listening." John assured, urging Bobby to continue.

"I just got off the phone with Rufus." Bobby admitted as he strode into the kitchen, scratching absently at his scruffy chin.

"And?" Ellen interjected.

"And Gordon's a damned liar." Bobby said with a mirthless chuckle.

"Gordon? How so?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Apparently the day Rufus called me and told me he couldn't help us with Sam anymore, was the day someone broke into his house and robbed him blind." Bobby said, his eyes shifting from Sam to John and then to Dean – expecting them to interrupt. When neither of them did, he continued. "Apparently he went out for a minute, and when he came back – most of his files had been cleaned…Sam's and Dean's included."

"I have a file?" Dean wondered with a smile on his face, obviously excited about the idea of having a file.

"Rufus has a file of every hunter, ya idjit." Bobby quipped back with an eye-roll. Dean visibly deflated at Bobby's words, for a moment looking truly disappointed.

"Anyway…" Bobby continued a little impatiently, "Gordon took out some of Rufus's security cameras, but didn't get a hold of the hidden ones…and Rufus wouldn't lie to me."

"So what you're saying…" John cut in – his face red as he held back his rising temper "is Gordon is the only one after Sam? Rufus didn't call other hunters to come after him?"

"I don't know if Gordon's the only one, John." Bobby admitted, "Maybe he called some of his friends. There's no way of knowing till someone else comes after us."

"But if Rufus didn't call anyone, then why'd he call me?" Ellen asked a little skeptically.

"Well what did he say to you, exactly?" Bobby inquired.

"He said it was important that I get to the Salvage Yard, quick. It's about Sam…then he hung up." Ellen recalled with a shrug.

"Maybe it was a warning about Gordon…maybe Rufus figured we'd need the back-up if Gordon came after us." Bobby wondered.

"Whatever this is going on with these hunters we need to figure it out and fast." Sam interjected, his strength returning slowly but surely.

"We are son," John assured Sam sympathetically, "We're doing this as fast as we can."

"But not fast enough." Sam replied miserably.

"What does that mean?" Dean demanded, suddenly getting defensive.

Sam looked up at his brother and then his father as unshed tears lingered in his eyes, held back by his guard that he desperately tried to keep up. "It means I was out of it for more than an hour just now, Dean."

"Yeah…so what? You still came back!" Dean argued.

"You need to be ready, Dean…" Sam replied, ignoring his brothers' argument, "I don't know if I'll be able to fight it back next time. It's already stronger than I thought. And it's a sneaky son-of-a-bitch. When it told you to let it go, and to leave with it…I knew it was going to kill you anyway."

"You remember that? You were awake?" Dean asked as his eyes remained fixed on his little brother.

"It made sure I was awake for it." Sam commented truthfully, "It doesn't have a problem with killing you…all of you."

"What are you saying, Sammy?" John asked, his voice cracking with held back emotion.

"It means…the next time this thing takes over – I'm not so sure I'll be able to fight it off." Sam replied as a tear slid down his cheek as his guard crumbled down, "We're almost out of time."

* * *

_You guys still liking the creature!Sam? Hm...I know I am. :D _

_Heads up - there'll be some more angsty!John next chapter. Hehe. _

_What do you think so far? _


	16. Move Along

_Chapter 16_

* * *

For the remainder of the day – John, Bobby, Sam, and Dean actually found that they were grateful to have Ellen now on board, especially with Ash in her back pocket (being the genius that he was). She apparently has had Ash working on this 'Beast of Bray Road' legend for almost as long as Sam, Dean, and Bobby have been on board.

And it had finally paid off, the boys thought with excitement.

Unfortunately, what it wasn't, was a cure. Ash basically told them that when Sam and Dean killed the Beast, and it turned into a woman – they killed Jeremiah's mistress. The woman he had been with while he wasn't with his wife – the witch.

It actually made sense, Dean thought to himself as he racked his brain with as much information as he could with this lore. It made sense because the stories all say that when the witch sold her soul, she died ten years later as anyone did when they sold their souls. And then of course her husband – Jeremiah, changed into The Beast of Bray Road, whom John took out many years later.

But never once has records ever mentioned what happened to Jeremiah's mistress. Elizabeth – the witch, must have cursed the other woman too.

That at least was one mystery solved, they realized as they got back to researching ways to help Sam.

Bobby on the other hand had talked to Rufus again later on, only to be answered – and of course Rufus being the anti-social hermit that he was, wasn't too happy about being called again. But to Bobby's surprise he didn't protest, though he did sound annoyed. Bobby figured it was because of guilt – seeing as it was his fault that Gordon was on their asses.

But whatever it was, Bobby decided against questioning it.

It turns out that his suspicions were right, and that he called Ellen to sign her up to help them out. And much to their relief, Rufus informed Bobby that Gordon was acting solo on this hunt.

Apparently, Gordon had attempted to add some recruits of his own to join in the hunt of Sam Winchester. But it seemed that no one believed him, and all said that Sam Winchester was nothing more than a hunter, and that there was no reason to hunt him.

Others even went so far as to tell Gordon that it was a fool's errand, running out trying to kill Sam. Because if whether he failed or succeeded…he'd have the wrath of John and Dean Winchester to answer to.

That made Bobby laugh as he hung up the phone with Rufus, and relayed the news to the others that Gordon was on his own.

That at least was settled though, and in their favor. Nonetheless, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that, that was _all_ the good news they would get out of this.

The following day was less active. Bobby and John were basically tearing through Bobby's address book to see if they could get in touch witch some sort of Shaman or witch or something that would at least slow the transformation a little. But so far, no such luck – no one that could help them with this problem anyway, they decided.

Ellen on the other hand was keeping busy by basically patrolling the perimeter of the house at least every half hour, just to see if Gordon had anything else up his sleeves. But so far he hadn't shown up.

Honestly, Sam couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He knew Gordon wouldn't just give up and move on…so where was he? What did he have planned?

Sam and Dean were busy with their usual routine of constant research. The brothers sat in Bobby's library, while Dean read from the glowing screen of the laptop to himself hungrily. Sam on the other hand sat in the office chair, with an old black leather-bound book propped open on the desk in front of him.

For the last few hours, every stupid little thing had annoyed Sam to no end, everyone realized…the hard way. In one instance, after they'd been researching for a few hours, Dean had suggested they get something to eat and take a break. Sam gave Dean a threateningly pointed look, and said there wasn't any time for breaks. And that by taking a break, Dean was being thoughtless.

Dean…thoughtless? Especially when it came to Sam? Well of course that sparked an argument. Dean went off on Sam, and reminded him that if he were _thoughtless_ he wouldn't be at his side every friggin' hour of every day…(more or less).

Sam never apologized; he just grumbled and turned his attention back to the book in front of him silently – knowing that he had lost that argument.

Dean on the other hand, rolled his eyes and stood from his seat before placing the laptop back in his seat neatly. He glanced at his little brother before heading off into the kitchen, now needing a break more than ever.

No one noted that the thin rat-like tail that Sam had decided was more comfortable on the outside of his boxers as the elastic drooped just enough so it didn't restrict it, was flicking back and forth quickly, signifying that he was on edge.

If this had been under any other circumstances, Dean would have found the fact that Sam had a tail to give away his emotions slightly humorous. Now however, it was downright terrifying.

Later on, when Dean decided it was time he forgave Sam – after all the poor kid was going through hell, he came back into the library with a sandwich on a plate as a peace-offering. He placed the plate gently next to Sam's book so he didn't disturb the kid, before turning back to his reading on the laptop.

Around mid-afternoon, Dean had given up research for a while and instead went into the living room to help Bobby, while John took over his spot in researching. He noticed that his youngest son hadn't moved much from that spot at the desk in a while, as his wide dark golden eyes scraped over the words in the book intently.

"Sammy…" John began in a low husky voice as he tried to think of what to say to reassure his son. Sam's head snapped up to look up at his father, his eyes pinning him with certain annoyance, "You know it's alright to take a break, son. You're only human after all; you don't need to keep your nose buried in some book all day."

Sam scoffed when John said he was just human, which John didn't miss as his sympathetic gaze turned to one of curiosity.

"You _are_." He assured.

"Not these days, I'm not." Sam protested as he shook his head.

"What I'm trying to say is, Sam – is that we'll find something. And we'll find it before its too late, I mean we always do." John said, his voice getting louder with every word.

"You done?" Sam asked. His voice was completely monotone, while his face was a mask of emptiness.

Truthfully, John would be lying if he said that, that didn't unnerve him some. Sam was never one to adopt a 'game face'. Sure he was lie constantly whenever someone asked if he was okay, when he really wasn't (be it physically or emotionally). But usually the truth would be right there in his bright hazel puppy-dog eyes.

Not now though. John shuddered as he couldn't help but think that as he looked at his youngest son, he got the feeling of staring at a stranger.

"No, as a matter of fact." John quipped back, "You _are_ human, Sam! Maybe you're…_changing_ into something a little _more_ than that, but inside I know you're the same guy!"

"You don't know anything!" Sam accused angrily as he gritted his teeth, showing his father his sharpened and newly lengthened teeth.

"Sam, we _will_ fix this! We _have_ to!" John practically pleaded.

"You don't think I want to fix this?" Sam accused, blind fury now plaguing Sam's once blank features, "I would give anything to be human again –"

John cut Sam off with a mirthless chuckle as he rubbed his hand over his face. He knew it was to keep his unshed tears from falling, but Sam didn't need to know that.

"What?" Sam demanded in a low growl.

"You…" John replied with a sober face, "saying you'd give _anything_ to be human. It's a damn lie, and you know it!"

"What?" Sam asked in disbelief, his father had just blatantly called him a liar. But then after thinking on it, he understood what John was getting at, "You mean that kid? You think I don't want to be human because I won't kill a child?"

"No." John replied as he shook his head, "I just mean that you won't give anything to be human. And if you would, that kid would be dead right now, and we'd be off looking for a new job."

"Go to Hell!" Sam spat rage-fully.

John took notice of Sam's narrowed eyes, and the long tail hanging off his seat swishing vigorously to and fro. John knew it was the look that an agitated animal got, but he didn't say anything on the matter.

"Sammy come on…" John said a little more calmly as he attempted to reason with his son, "I just want you to think about this. If we really can't find any other way…promise me that you'll consider this."

"Consider what?" Sam yelled as he stood from his seat, his eyes piercing his father intently, "I'm not killing a child! I won't do it!"

"It's barely human, Sam!" John argued, anger suddenly rising, "Witches who work heavyweight black-magic, aren't human…for all intents and purposes. So why are you protecting this kid?"

"Because what if he isn't like his ancestors!?" Sam yelled, "What if this kid doesn't dabble in black-magic?"

"And what if he does?" John asked, "You won't let us go find him, so we have no way of knowing."

"Fine!" Sam cried, throwing his hands up in defeat, "We'll look into him. But if this kid isn't evil, then I'm not touching a hair on his head!"

"Understandable." John muttered with a thankful nod as he turned toward the kitchen to tell Bobby to start searching for this kid. There wasn't really much to go on to find the kid, John thought to himself.

All they had was his ancestors' origin and a last name – sure it was enough to find him, but it could take a while. Maybe they should put Ash on it? He wasn't sure, but he would run it by Bobby too.

Just as John turned into the living room toward where Bobby was, he bumped shoulders with Ellen as she passed by him going the opposite direction. Over her other shoulder was her rifle, which John knew was probably loaded, he thought to himself uncomfortably as he avoided her polite gaze. He then loudly cleared his throat before he muttered an apology.

He hadn't made much of an effort to talk to Ellen…especially after what had happened with her husband.

Right when he was about to keep headed toward Bobby, Ellen gently grabbed his shoulder and looked at John with sympathy and a soulfulness that he couldn't quite place.

"John…" Ellen began soberly before clearing her throat, but her eyes never once shifted from his face, "I just wanted you to know that…that I forgive you."

Whatever John had been expecting, it sure wasn't that. His eyes averted from the floor to her face with a look of genuine curiosity. How could Ellen have forgiven him, when he hadn't even forgiven himself yet?

"I forgave you a while ago," Ellen admitted, "it was an accident…it wasn't your fault."

John kept his eyes trained on Ellen in a weird fascination, not knowing what to think or say. She had completely caught him off guard.

"Thanks, Ellen." John muttered with a deep sigh, "Bill was a good man."

Ellen nodded feverishly and finally shifted her gaze to her feet when she felt her emotions begin to get the better of her. She didn't want any of these men to see her so emotional, so she took in a deep breath and quickly changed the subject.

"B-but we're here for Sam, now." She said a little calmer, "So I think it's time we put the past aside."

Her strong gray eyes looked back up into John's face and he nodded in agreement when he finally remembered why he was coming this way.

"Sam…he uh – he gave me permission to look for the kid." John informed.

Ellen's eyes widened at that, "Is he gonna…? He's not gonna -?"

"No…no, I don't think so." John answered immediately, knowing what Ellen was trying to imply, "He said he wouldn't anyway…not unless the kid was evil."

Ellen nodded in understanding, her strong composure pieced back together. "Alright…I'll go tell Ash, you tell Bobby."

John nodded curtly before walking off toward Bobby again, while Ellen headed back to where she was headed.

John's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts right now. He had been trying too hard for months to forgive himself for Bill, and thought that surely Ellen was struggling to forgive him too.

But eventually, his emotions got in the way of his hunting so he boxed the memory up and hid it away in the back of his mind – never to be seen again. He had even stopped going to the Roadhouse, not knowing what to say to Ellen, or her daughter Jo. She was so young at the time, how could he have been the one to tell the child that she just lost her father?

Now though, here Ellen was telling him that she forgave him. She forgave him for forgetting about them, and focusing on his own revenge.

What did that say about him? He couldn't help but wonder.

* * *

_Okay, I literally wrote this chapter on the friggin road, so I apologize for its sloppiness. -.-_

_It's a little rushed in places too, I admit. But I really wanted to try and get this up for you guys, so here it is...a little half-assed. Haha. More to come eventually guys, just bear with me! :D_


	17. Jeremy

_Chapter 17_

* * *

_The sun was low in the sky, and nearly all of the light had gone. The sky was dark as the night clouds rolled in, and the crescent moon hung not too brightly in the sky just through the trees of the woods. _

_All the animal life knew that by the time of day it was that if they stayed out, they would be in danger – so a rush of animals fought amongst each other and ran to their hiding places to bunker down for the night. _

_The creature would be out soon, and it was almost feeding time. _

_Suddenly, there was the sound of leaves crunching beneath feet – but the animals knew it wasn't the creature, but a man. He was moving too stealthy for it to be the creature. _

_That's when the man came into view, a man wearing a brown leather jacket and short choppy dirty blond hair, his green eyes searching through the woods intently with a large rifle held at the ready in front of him. _

_"Sam!" The man called through the silent woods, his eyes shifting through his surroundings. _

_"Sammy!" He called again louder. _

_He was rewarded with a loud growl coming from directly behind him. The man whirled around, aiming his gun into the shadows with a fearful look on his face. _

_"Come on, Sam!" The man called again, this time sounding desperate, "I know you're not too far gone. We can still fix this!"_

_Another growl emitted from behind the bushes which was hidden in shadow. The man chanced another step closer, and the Beast didn't approve. _

_There was a loud roar as the creature lunged from behind the bush and landed directly on top of the man before him, causing his prey to topple over and drop his rifle. _

_The furry black wolf-like creature held down the man with ease, its sharp claws digging into the man's chest causing him to grunt in pain. It flicked its furry tail and perked its ears with amusement as he looked down at his prey – the man beneath him didn't even attempt to struggle. _

_"Sam." The man squealed. _

_The Beast growled again, showing off its impressive set of sharp teeth – though it didn't seem like it was trying to eat the man just yet. No…this thing was toying with his food, first. _

_"Come on, dude!" The man yelled impatiently, "It's me! Your brother!"_

_Suddenly the creature roared in his face, showing the man that he was the one in charge and he had no chance of escaping. _

_The Beast was curious though…this man seemed familiar, and it was bothering him – which was probably the only reason the man was still alive. _

_Just then, there was the sound of another man coming through the brush as his feet cracked the twigs and dead leaves beneath his feet. The creature's head snapped up, and was suddenly face to face with another man holding a rifle at the ready. This man looked older than the man beneath him, the hair on his head was darker than the hair that was on his face. His face was slightly puffy and shiny signifying that he had been crying, the creature noticed as the tear tracks slid down into his mustache. _

_The Beast wasn't sure how it knew, being as it couldn't see so many colors as it knew humans could – but if it could see colors, the older man's face would be red. _

_But the older man seemed familiar too, the Beast noticed with deep frustration as he bared his teeth at the new intruder. _

_"Dad!" The man beneath him called, sounding slightly winded. _

_Dad? Brother? Colors? This all seemed to be too much for the creature as it roared loudly showing its frustration. All it wanted to do was eat!_

_The older man muttered a silent apology as he cocked his gun, and then fired – directly into the Beasts heart. _

_"SAMMY!" Dean called, as he watched the wolf-like creature which he knew to be his little brother fall away from him into the woods dirt floor in a heap. _

**xXx**

Sam sat bolt up from the desk in Bobby's study where he had fallen asleep, using his crossed arms as a pillow. His tired eyes scraped across the dark room vigorously as he searched for any signs of life around him.

He looked out the window, and noticed that it was still dark out, but on the verge of dawn. So he figured now was a good a time as any to get up and start the day.

Sam stood from his seat slowly and stretched his form, his arms reaching above his head to work the kinks out of his aching spine. He noticed that even the addition to his spine seemed to obey the rest of him as it too stretched itself outward.

When satisfied, and even a little lightheaded – Sam relaxed and made his way to the kitchen where he was sure to find someone.

Sure enough, as Sam rounded the corner - standing in the kitchen with his back against the counter and a cup of coffee in his hands stood Dean. His eyes were red and held deep bags beneath them, clearly showing that sleep was a distant memory to him, even though the clothes he wore suggested he had at least tried.

He wore a simple dark green t-shirt, and dark gray sweat pants. Sam knew that much like himself, Dean didn't wear sweats unless he was sleeping.

"Hey." Dean called halfheartedly before he sipped from the steaming mug in his hands.

"Hey." Sam called back, still giving his brother a good once-over, "Did you get any sleep?"

"Yeah, a little." Dean replied, though Sam could tell that he was lying.

Dean looked over Sam quickly, before judging that he looked a little exhausted himself – which he ought to be. "What're you doin' up?"

Sam sighed and offered a half-smile as he pulled a mug out of the cabinet that was above the sink. "I uh…had a weird dream."

Actually, truth be told – Sam wasn't entirely sure if it was a dream or a vision. Sure, usually he only had visions relating to the Yellow-Eyed Demon – but maybe the curse changed that too. He really wasn't sure. But he decided it would be best not to mention that to Dean.

"Well, what was it about?" Dean prodded curiously.

Sam walked over toward where Dean was standing and reached behind him for the half full coffee pot. Once in his grasp, he poured the dark liquid contents into his mug till it nearly spilled over before he placed the pot back on the burner.

He then turned to face his brother looking slightly annoyed before he divulged into his last night's terror – if you could call it that, even. Sam told Dean about the dark wolf-like creature, and about how he then showed up in the dream. He said how he thought that the creature was him, but then it attacked him – but didn't kill him. Then their dad showed up and shot the Beast – ending the dream."

It was silent for a minute after that as Dean sipped his coffee yet again, trying to keep his mouth busy so he couldn't talk just yet.

In old wives-tales, if you die in a dream you wake up – Dean couldn't get that out of his head. If Sam woke up after the creature died…what did that mean? Was it a vision and Sam was just in denial? Dean didn't want to get into it. So instead, he denied it himself as well.

"I'm sure it's just a dream, Sammy." Dean comforted mildly.

Sam nodded before sipping coffee from his own mug in clear discomfort, desperate for Dean to change the conversation.

"So uh…dad told me that you gave the green-flag on the kid hunt..?" Dean spoke up, sounding nonchalant.

Sam closed his eyes against his brothers' words and took in a deep steadying breath. When he thought that he wished Dean would change the subject, he meant anything else that didn't have any relevance to what was going on with him. Hell, he would have even taken 'Nice weather we're having!'

"Yeah," Sam replied as he opened his eyes to glance at his brother, "we're just gonna see if the kid's evil. If not, then I'm not touching him."

Dean shook his head, and brought his mug up to his mouth for another sip. He wanted more than anything for Sam to just kill that kid and get this over with. But he knew he wouldn't, and he was too tired to argue about it right now.

Suddenly the sound of someone's high-pitched ringing cellphone rang through the quiet house from the other room. Sam and Dean turned their heads toward the doorway where the sound was coming from, and sighed with relief when the annoying sound ceased the moment Ellen's voice whispered a rushed and tired greeting.

"Who's calling Ellen at this time of day?" Dean grumbled with an eye-roll.

_"Really?"_ Ellen's surprised voice echoed into the kitchen, catching the boys' attention again, _"Hm…poor kid."_

Dean and Sam then exchanged curious glances before looking back toward the doorway toward the living room where Ellen's voice was coming from.

_"Alright, Ash…thanks." _

Then there was the sound of light footfalls, and suddenly Ellen came into the kitchen looking rather tired herself – still in the clothes she wore yesterday, the battered white t-shirt with an open jean jacket over it, and dark denim pants that covered the top of her brown boots.

"So…good news." Ellen announced to the boys, "Ash got wind of the kid. He still lives in Wisconsin, his name's Jeremy Godrick."

"Jeremy?" Sam questioned; his eyebrow quirking in curiosity, "Short for Jeremiah? Like his ancestor?"

"Sounds about right." Ellen replied with a nod, "I uh…got Ash to e-mail me his file. He seems to be quite the troublemaker, but no evidence that he's evil."

"Well what five year old isn't a bit of a troublemaker?" Dean wondered aloud with an eye-roll.

"True." Ellen commented with a nod.

"Where in Wisconsin is he?" Sam pried.

"Uh – Pleasant Springs." Ellen replied.

"Pleasant Springs?" Dean asked with a mirthful chuckle, "Sounds like a retirement home."

"He lives on one-twelve Orchard Road." Ellen continued, ignoring Dean's comment.

"Alright…" Sam muttered with a small nod, "Well, I think we should look at his file first before we go looking for him."

"You're right," Dean agreed as he placed his half empty mug on the counter behind him, "I'll go wake dad up."

Without waiting for a reply, Dean walked out of the kitchen toward the living room where he knew their dad and Ellen had fallen asleep. Ellen of course slept on the couch, which John offered up so he was left to the floor.

And sure enough, upon entering the room was John Winchester sleeping soundly on the floor beneath a thin dark blue blanket with his head resting on his leather jacket.

Dean approached his father carefully; not wanting to end up with his fathers' knife he knew was kept beneath the jacket in his leg.

"Dad!" Dean called in a loud whisper, "Dad, we got something."

At that, John rolled over to face Dean and looked up at his son with bleary eyes. "What's up?"

"We found the kid." Dean informed, a hint of excitement lacing beneath his words.

* * *

_I'm back! Haha. _


	18. Sulfur

_Chapter 18_

* * *

The remainder of that day was spent with furious arguments between the men and Ellen on who should go on this escapade to Wisconsin. They needed a few people to stay behind to hold down the fort while the others searched out Jeremy.

The obvious choices on who should stay behind – which Sam pointed out were Bobby and Ellen. But John and Dean seemed rather reluctant. Neither of them really wanted Sam along on this particular mission.

Sure, it made sense to bring him because this was his future that was on the line. But still, it was a few hours stuck in the Impala. A few hours stuck in the Impala with his and Dean's father.

Normally, Dean still wouldn't mind bringing Sam along although he still hated the constant fighting and would always come between his father and brother just before they started eating each other alive…but under Sam's current condition, if egged on just enough – Dean feared Sam may literally eat John alive.

Therefore, it also made sense to leave Sam behind. They weren't going to kill Jeremy like Sam requested. But they did have to check him out. And Sam didn't need to be there for that.

"I'm coming!" Sam exclaimed with his arms crossed over his chest, his golden eyes glaring daggers at John, "This argument is stupid."

"No it isn't, Sam! It's logic." John snapped, his voice rising slightly, "You get overexcited – hell, even just hungry enough, you could kill Dean or me."

"So you don't trust me to stay in control?" Sam questioned rhetorically.

"You couldn't when that girl was hanging in Bobby's yard…" John reminded, his voice suddenly lower and guilt-ridden.

Sam didn't have an answer to that. He had tasted Kelly's blood after Gordon had left her in the Salvage Yard for him. And if he were being completely honest, he wanted more. As the days progressed, he had gone from eating his usual healthy foods such as salads to meat - not that he didn't eat meat before, but he never ate it so often. Now he ordered his meat rare every day, though the _thing_ in his mind constantly requested his meat be raw. But Sam luckily still had enough reserve to know that, that was disgusting.

Surely if pushed too hard, the thing in his mind would take control again and gorge itself…starting with John and Dean.

Sam then took in a deep breath and nodded solemnly. His father and brother put up a good argument. One that Sam couldn't exactly counter because he was just as unpredictable to himself as he was to his family.

"So what do we do if Jeremy's evil?" Sam asked sounding calmer, though not completely at ease as his nerves still ran high.

"Well…" Dean answered with a shrug, "We can't kill him, 'cause it wouldn't do you much good. So we'll bring him back here."

Sam scoffed, a tight smile curving over his mouth as his eyes fixed on Dean curiously. "How do you expect to do that? If he's evil he's not gonna let you get within five feet of him…and not to mention his mom and stepdad."

Ash had informed Ellen that Jeremy lived with his mother, and her new husband. Apparently, Jeremy's father died when Jeremy was only an infant in some kind of fire. It was a rather suspicious looking fire actually, if Sam was being honest. The coroner's report said that Jeremy's father had suffered third and even forth degree burns throughout his entire body. It seemed that his father had fallen asleep with a lit cigarette in bed while his wife – Jeremy's mother was working the night shift at her job as a nightly nurse in the local retirement home.

But during the police investigation, they found traces of sulfur in the room. That peaked the hunter's interest. Sulfur meant that a demon was probably involved.

And of course if a demon was involved in that family's lives, it couldn't mean anything good for any of them. So maybe Jeremy was evil.

A small part of Sam desperately wished that he was. If Jeremy was evil, he would feel a little better about killing him. But if he wasn't…he swore he wouldn't touch the kid, and either his father or his brother would have to put a silver bullet in his head to stop him before it's too late.

"I dunno…" Dean admitted with a playful smirk meant to mask his uncertainty, "But we'll figure it out. You're gonna be okay, Sammy."

Sam kept his eyes fixed on Dean and inhaled deeply, before nodding sharply. He knew that Dean and their father would be heading out soon, and they'd be taking either Bobby or Ellen with them. Sam only wished they would hurry. He didn't want to think of their reaction if his other side decided to take control permanently while they were away, and came back to him in that state.

It would kill all of them.

**xXx**

John and Dean had decided to take Ellen with them at the last minute. She understood how dire the situation was, and knew that she would have to be fast acting if things were to go downhill.

Now the sun was sinking low in the sky, casting an orange almost pink glow around the farmland landscape around them. The cows and horses in the fields were grazing in their herds without a care in the world, even though the air around them smelled of manure and other bodily waste. They didn't even so much as glance upward upon hearing the loud grumble of a car engine as the lone black Chevy Impala sped down the road toward its destination.

Dean, John, and Ellen had been on the road for almost four hours and were finally closing in on Pleasant Springs. John sat behind the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road with a look of determination plastered on his face. Dean understood his fathers' feelings toward this situation…this was Sammy after all, and no one understood Sam better than Dean. But upon seeing that look on John's face, Dean wished he could play 'Eye of the Tiger' without getting his head bitten off.

Hell, it would definitely ease the awkwardness of the silent car ride, Dean thought to himself from the backseat.

Ellen sat up in the front with a tiny flashlight in her hands pointed at the open map in her lap as she silently tried to figure out where they were, and how to get where they were supposed to go.

Dean couldn't bring himself to look over at Ellen. Nothing against her, but that was Sammy's seat. Dean could recall him and his little brother in the car blasting classic rock with the windows down. Sam always sat in the passengers' seat with the flashlight and the map and always told Dean where to go. Those were the good ol' days, Dean reminisced silently.

He only hoped that Sam would get better so they could relive those days again. At that thought, Dean sat back against the seat and stifled his tears; he needed Sam to get better.

**xXx**

Sam tried to keep himself busy, he really did. But it seemed he couldn't sit still long enough to do any sort of research or just read or anything. So he resorted to pacing back and forth in the living room silently.

Bobby sat on the couch with at open leather-bound brown book in his lap and a rifle in his left hand with the butt of the gun on the ground with his feet. His eyes scanned the words on the page tiredly, but was perfectly aware of Sam's tension.

"Sit down boy, you're makin' me dizzy." Bobby called half-heartedly without looking up from his book.

Sam ceased his pacing and looked down at Bobby curiously before sighing deeply to calm his nerves. "This is stupid."

"What is?" Bobby asked, finally looking up from his book – his eyes now trained on Sam.

"Why did they leave just you with me? I mean if I…wolf-out or whatever, I could kill you before you could get me to the basement."

Bobby quirked his left eyebrow as he kept his curious gaze on Sam. "You underestimate me, boy."

"No offense, Bobby…but I think this _thing_ in my head could take you if it really wanted to." Sam admitted sounding guilty.

"You'll be fine, Sam. Your dad and brother should be back by morning." Bobby assured with an eye-roll. Maybe he couldn't get Sam down to the basement in this state, but still – if it really came down to it, Bobby had a few tricks up his sleeve.

The older hunter averted his eyes from Sam's for a moment and noticed that the kids' naked rat-like tail was poking out from above the elastic of his sweat pants and swishing behind him back and forth signifying to Bobby just how uneasy Sam really was.

"Now you should get to sleep, Sam. Dean, John, and Ellen will be back by the time you wake up." Bobby promised with a small nod as his eyes went back to Sam's quickly.

Honestly, Sam doubted he'd be able to get much sleep. But he figured he'd try, at least. If he couldn't bring himself to read, then sleeping would definitely pass the time and keep his mind off his dad and brother. And it would definitely give Bobby a while to rest as well.

**xXx**

Finally, after what seemed like forever – Dean, John, and Ellen finally reached Pleasant Springs. It was a small yet quaint little community that seemed out of reach of other towns. It was surrounded by miles of farmland.

The moment they pulled up to Jeremy's house, Dean got out of the back seat of the car dressed in a fresh suit that he had just slipped on while still in the car. Once out of the car, with the door closed behind him, he smoothed the front of his suit out, and treaded up the steps onto the front porch.

The house seemed small, but nice for a small family of three. The house seemed relatively new, like it was built within the last few years or so. This house definitely stuck out, Dean noted as he saw that the neighboring houses and all the houses on the block seemed rather Victorian. He knew though that it was because after Jeremy's father died, his mother had the house rebuilt after the fire. And they continued to live there in the old town.

Surely it would have looked just as old as the other homes if the original house hadn't burned down.

It wasn't even eight-thirty yet, Dean thought to himself as he knocked on the front door sharply and plastering a polite yet fake smile on his face, waiting for someone to come answer the door.

No one came.

Dean glanced over the porch swing toward the driveway, and saw that there were indeed two cars in the driveway. So the kids' parents were definitely home.

Maybe they hadn't heard him knocking, Dean wondered as he decided to ring the doorbell instead.

Still no answer.

Dean turned his head to glance over at the Impala where his father and Ellen were watching him intently. Confusion swept John's features as he turned the car off, and stepped out of the drivers' seat before slamming the door closed behind him.

"The cars are in the driveway." John noted in a whisper as he climbed the steps onto the porch where his eldest son stood.

"Yeah, I noticed that too." Dean muttered as he reached into his jacket and withdrew his lock-pick. He knelt down on the fresh wooden porch, and skillfully picked the lock on the front door open with a look of straight concentration in his bright green eyes.

After only a few moments, the lock clicked and Dean knew they had access. He then got up to his feet and placed his lock-pick back inside his jacket, and opened the now unlocked front door.

John walked into the dark house first and was immediately met with the unmistakable scent of rotten meat, and decay. He coughed and sputtered trying to erase the smell from his mind, but found no relief. Realizing what this probably meant, John withdrew his pistol from his waistband and clicked the safety off before holding it at the ready.

Behind him, he heard Dean have the same reaction to the smell as he followed his father as quietly as possible.

John turned to face his eldest son in time to see Dean pull his own pistol out, and click the safety off. He motioned to Dean to follow his lead, to which Dean nodded obeying wordlessly.

Quickly and quietly, John swept through the house with his gun held out in front of him defensively. The living room was clean, and so was the hallway and both of the bedrooms and bathroom. Doubling back with Dean still behind him, John searched the rest of the house and found the smell got stronger the moment he passed the threshold into the kitchen.

He and Dean choked on the smell as it hit them like a tidal wave. For a moment, John lowered his defenses and used the arm that held his gun to mask his coughing fit.

Not being able to take much more of the smell, John reached over and flipped on the lights in the kitchen to see two bodies littering the floor.

One older heavy-set man with a brown mustache lay on his back with his wide terror-filled brown eyes fixed on the ceiling with his throat slit wide open. Blood continued to gush from the open wound, down his neck and onto the floor beneath him – pooling around the upper half of his body.

The older woman next to the man was rather plump with brown hair and green eyes, and was by far the cleanest body. Her head was at an awkward angle, suggesting a broken neck. Her wide eyes and open mouth told John and Dean that she had been screaming up until the moment of her death. Her arm lay reaching out away from the man at her side.

"Jeremy's mom and stepdad…but where's Jeremy?" Dean wondered aloud, deciding that breathing through his mouth was his best option.

"I don't know." John admitted, deciding to cover his nose with his armed hand after realizing there was no threat here.

"You're thinkin' the kid flipped and killed his parents?" Dean pondered, his eyes fixed on his father almost hopefully.

"No." John murmured as he stepped passed the couples' bodies toward the open kitchen window.

"What is it?" Dean demanded sounding almost worried as he followed his father curiously.

There in the windowsill, lay a yellowish powder which Dean knew immediately just from looking at it. But his father still dipped his fingers into it, and brought it up to his nose.

"Sulfur." John confirmed as he rubbed his fingers together to remove the residual powder from his fingers after putting his hands back down at his sides.

"Demons." Dean muttered curtly with a tiny detached nod.

* * *

_I know, I know - It's been too long since I've updated this story. Hell, it's been a while since I've updated period. But I'm pouring my focus into one story at a time. This week is dedicated to this one, so let's see what happens guys. :)_

_Tell me what you think! _


	19. The Art of Subconscious Illusion

_Chapter 19_

* * *

Sam awoke with a gasp, his face glistening in a cold sweat brought on by a dream he couldn't really remember. He lay at an awkward angle on the couch in the living room with his left leg hanging over the arm of the couch, and his right foot planted on the ground almost as if his body were trying to sit up while he was asleep. His hands served as a pillow beneath his head, covered in his drool.

He sighed; not knowing what woke him up and folded his body up into a sitting position, wiping the drool on his hands on his gray t-shirt.

That's when he caught notice of his hands, but wasn't the least bit surprised. His thick long pointed nails that tapered into claws at the end of his fingers had actually grown and curved, looking like nothing remotely human. But when he turned his hands over, he found that the palms of his hands no longer held the grooves and lines that he'd memorized since childhood – but instead saw that his palms had thickened and smoothed out into a soft padding, similar to what you'd find on a canine foot.

A cold shiver crept up his spine, and found that he didn't even need to look at his feet to know that they were the same way.

It was getting harder and harder to hide the fact that he wasn't _all_ human.

Suddenly Sam's head perked up when he heard Bobby's muffled voice from the kitchen as he spoke silently on the phone, trying to keep his voice low so Sam wouldn't hear.

But it was hard to hide things from Sam now, especially with his heightened senses. His ears had actually grown to his displeasure. But now the points of his ears protruded from his thick hair, making them hard to hide as well – however, because of this mutation, Sam's hearing had improved exponentially. He knew that if he were standing in the same room as Bobby, he'd hear both sides of the conversation.

"He's doing alright…considering." Sam heard Bobby mutter, sounding worried.

There was a long pause as whoever Bobby was speaking to said his or her piece, to which Bobby replied with muffled yet clearly frustrated sounding _'mhm'_s or _'nu uh'_s.

Then Bobby spoke up again. "Sam doesn't have much longer, John. I've been watchin' him all night, and the change is speeding up. You understand that? You're talkin' about a couple days worth of a hunt – if that! Maybe the demons hid the kid in New Mexico for all we know, and you wanna go traipsin' all over God's Green Earth lookin' for him?"

Sometimes like moments like these, Sam's respect for Bobby always increased. The man was ruthless when it came to putting John Winchester in his place, and Sam wished desperately for that ability. Sure he fought his father over everything, but John never backed down for the simple fact that Sam was his _son_.

Another long pause deafened the room, and Sam held his breath as he waited for Bobby to reply so maybe he could get some clue on what was going on. All Sam seemed to understand was that Dean, their father, and Ellen didn't find the kid and would probably be gone for longer than they intended while they looked for him.

When Bobby replied finally, Sam noticed that his voice was shaky and thick with emotion. "Well when you get back, John…there's a good chance that what you come back to _won't_ be Sam."

Sam heard a loud click as Bobby slammed the phone back into the receiver angrily.

Sighing, Sam figured now was as good a time as any to get up and face his surrogate uncle. He got to his feet, and wobbled for a moment as he was hit with a sudden lightheadedness from getting up too fast. He shook his head violently, before heading into the kitchen to where he knew Bobby was.

Sure enough there Bobby was, with his hands holding him up on the counter as he looked out the window absently. It was apparent that he was deep in thought, and Sam knew that it was about him. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, instantly gaining Bobby's attention.

The older hunter whirled around with wide eyes until he noticed Sam standing in the threshold, and relaxed only slightly – not trusting Sam enough to lower his guard completely. Sam figured that was a smart idea, seeing as he didn't even trust himself anymore.

But Sam offered a lopsided half smile to try and ease Bobby's nerves. "What was the phone call about?"

"Your dad…" Bobby replied instantly, sounding exhausted, "He won't be back for a few days, now. But uh…Dean's on his way back."

Sam's eyes widened, "Dad's letting Dean come back?"

Bobby nodded before replying. "The kid wasn't at his house, but his parents were dead. Your dad doesn't think it was the kid though because they found sulfur too. So your dad and Ellen are gonna keep up the search for the kid. But Dean insisted he come back…he wanted to be here with you…just in case…"

Bobby's voice trailed off, not being able to finish his sentence. But he didn't need to. Sam knew exactly what he meant and nodded in understanding.

"Dad doesn't make it in time..?" Sam offered solemnly.

Bobby hung his head slightly before nodding curtly. In that moment, Sam noticed that this was taking as much of a toll of Bobby as it was on Dean and their dad. He had known Bobby for most of his life after all, so why wouldn't it affect Bobby?

"Ya hungry, boy?" Bobby suddenly asked as he clapped his hands together, obviously desperate to change the topic.

Truth be told, Sam was hungry. His stomach grumbled loudly at that moment on cue, and Bobby rolled his eyes as he went into the refrigerator and fished out the raw hamburger still wrapped in the plastic wrap and Styrofoam tray.

Closing the fridge door behind him, Bobby opened the plastic wrap and began pulling apart the red meat into smaller individual mounds of hamburger. Sam kept his mouth closed and turned away when his hunger suddenly spiked at seeing the raw bloody meat.

Once Bobby put a couple of burgers on the frying pan, and turned the gas stove on, the kitchen was filled with the scent of cooking meat. This actually aggravated Sam because his stomach wanted it raw…hell, if his will was only slightly weaker – he would have settled for eating _Bobby_. But as long as Sam was still in control, he would _never_ let that happen…_ever_.

So Sam turned back toward the cooking meat and watched as it sizzled and cackled as the heat cooked its juices out. It wouldn't be great, but he wouldn't die of starvation at least.

"So uh…" Sam began awkwardly trying to take his mind away from food, "W-when's Dean supposed to be back, then?"

Bobby shrugged without looking up from the cooking burgers; he suddenly opened the drawer next to the stove, and dug around for a moment before withdrawing a clean spatula. Once in his grasp, he closed the drawer, and flipped the burgers over with the spatula absently and sighed.

"Within the next few hours, I'd imagine." Bobby guessed.

Sam nodded curtly, and sighed. But that's when he caught Bobby's wandering eye. The older hunter kept his head down, but would peak out of the corner of his eye toward Sam – but not at his face. No…Bobby kept fixing his gaze on Sam's hands – his inhuman and deadly clawed hands.

Honestly, this spiked Sam's frustration quickly. Of course the true hunter in the room had to keep a wary eye on the threat – the _monster_ in the room.

Sam lifted his hands to get a better look for himself and of course saw the more paw-like pads that replaced his palms as he had seen only moments ago. Hate burned through his veins and he didn't know why, or who it was directed at - when suddenly the thing in his mind supplied the answer suggestively.

He hated Bobby for judging him silently with his looks, he hated Ellen for sticking her nose in matters that didn't concern her, he hated the Beast who had done this to him in the first place, he hated Dean for thinking he was a child or an invalid and couldn't leave him for more than a few hours. But most of all…Sam found that he hated his father. He hated John more than anything at this moment.

Here he was, Sam – his youngest son, slipping, losing himself, _dying_! And what was John Winchester doing? Hunting! _Always_ hunting! Hunting came before everything in John's book…even before being a father, apparently.

"I hate this…" Sam muttered venomously, his gaze still locked on his hands.

"What's that, son?" Bobby asked curiously, suddenly looking up from the cooking food to finally get a better look at Sam.

"I…hate…this." Sam seethed between his suddenly heavy panting as he tried to keep his rising rage in check.

"Hate what?" Bobby asked, suddenly nervous.

Sam smiled, and chuckled upon seeing Bobby's wide eyes and hearing the hunters' shaky voice. "You're scared of me, Bobby?"

"No, Sam." Bobby answered immediately, "I'm scared _for_ you."

Then without even thinking about it, Sam's hand flew out and grabbed Bobby's throat harshly, his sharp curved claws digging into the soft flesh, just enough to draw blood, but not to kill him.

"Don't lie to me Bobby." Sam growled threateningly, keeping his golden eyes on the small beads of blood trickling down Bobby's neck.

Then Bobby did something that Sam didn't see coming. He expected him to kick, or scream at him, or call him something demeaning.

But Bobby looked at him calmly, really looked at him – in the eye, and replied, "I'm not lying to you, Sam…this aint you, boy. Somewhere…you know it."

Sam felt the thing in his mind whisper suggestions into his consciousness, but above all – he heard Bobby's words above the monster. The thing hadn't taken over, but it was definitely stronger, and Sam knew it. He knew that if this thing wanted, it could simply shove Sam out of the drivers' seat and take his body right now if it wanted.

But it didn't.

It lay in waiting, telling Sam what to do, telling Sam how to act, what to eat, how to live. It was unnerving. If this animal wanted control, then why didn't it just take it now? The waiting was enough to drive Sam crazy.

_"Stronger than you…yes." _The thing in his mind agreed gleefully. "_But the body isn't quite up to par with me just yet…almost though. Couple more days…plus…I love to toy with you, Human-Side."_

Sam shuddered as a chill crept up his spine. His eyes widened and he suddenly let go of Bobby's throat quickly as if it had burned him.

Bobby took in a deep relieved breath, but kept his eyes on Sam. His golden animal eyes were filled with tears, as realization of what he just did clouded his mind. He – Sam, had almost killed Bobby.

Sure, the _thing_ in his mind had given the suggestion to him, but it would have been _Sam_ who killed Bobby if he squeezed his hands just a little harder. Somehow, that was more terrifying than the thing taking full control of him, while his human-side was lost in oblivion.

"I-I-I'm sorry." Sam stammered as tears spilled down his cheeks.

"It's fine." Bobby replied rubbing his throbbing neck, "You made me burn the burgers…"

"I'm gonna go downstairs." Sam announced between his silent sobs.

"You don't have to, Sam. You pulled yourself out." Bobby replied hopefully.

"I almost killed you, Bobby." Sam countered in a thick voice.

"Almost…" Bobby agreed with a nod, "But you _didn't_, and that's all that matters."

"Still…" Sam argued dully, "I don't trust myself to not do it again."

Quickly, Sam turned away from Bobby and headed toward the basement door. He unlocked the chain, and turned the knob before heading down the stairs.

Behind him, he heard Bobby slam the basement door closed, obviously mad that Sam was beating himself up. But Sam didn't hear the chain lock.

Fine, Sam thought to himself as he reached the last step descending into the basement. His bare feet clapped against the cement floor furiously as he stormed toward the panic room with a look of determination on his face.

He turned the wheel, and unbolted the large iron door which led to the panic room with a loud click. Once the door was opened, Sam stepped through the threshold and closed the heavy door behind him intently – glad that the door didn't open from the inside without a key.

Here, Sam decided he would wait until the curse swallowed him whole as tears continued to stream down his face as he mourned his humanity.

_"Only a matter of time…" _The thing in his mind rejoiced.

* * *

_Oh man...what have I done to Sammy, huh? Hehehe. :D_


	20. Hold On

_Chapter 20_

* * *

Sam couldn't tell how long he'd been down there in that dark room hidden in the basement. Overhead he heard the large propellers circle slowly emitting a loud constant thumping. The light just above the propellers somehow made the room seem all the more depressing, but Sam wouldn't leave.

Actually, now Sam doubted he could leave – even if he wanted to.

He had been down there for what seemed like forever, and as the minutes ticked by he began feeling worse and worse. Sam couldn't tell what hurt the most; it was between his head, his ribs, and his gums.

Bobby had come downstairs shortly after Sam had locked himself in the room, begging him to rejoin him upstairs. But Sam refused. He just lay down on the cot and waited for his tears to dry, or the transformation to complete. Needless to say, Bobby wasn't pleased and of course chewed him out, telling Sam to get over it because it's not his fault.

Sam agreed wholeheartedly, it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't help but blame himself for being so weak. He couldn't fight the animals' influence.

After seeing Sam wasn't going to budge, Bobby let out a stream of impressive curses as he stomped upstairs and slammed the door behind him.

Shortly after that though was when Sam started to feel so awful. He felt pretty childish for thinking it, but he really wished Dean was there.

To Sam's surprises as if on cue, his cellphone rang admittedly startling him. He didn't think he brought his cell with him, but sure enough it was in his pocket of his sweatpants, vibrating angrily against his thigh.

Sam sighed as he dug into his pocket and withdrew his phone, and sure enough on the ID flashed 'Dad'.

"Hello?" Sam's cold tone greeted after flipping his phone open and bringing it to his sensitive ear.

_"Bobby tells me you're not coming out of the panic room…You okay?" _Sam's father wondered aloud, his voice thick with worry.

Sam could tell that John was driving with the open window. He could hear the rushing of the Impala down some road with its deep guttural engine. He couldn't help but wonder where his father was headed to exactly.

But anger flowed through Sam at Bobby, in that moment. Sam wouldn't come out so he called his _father_? He wasn't some child he was babysitting! Why didn't anyone seem to understand that he was a child! He was a _monster_!

"Is that so?" Sam asked clearly furious, "Well did Bobby also tell you that I friggin' went for his throat? Or did he leave that out?"

_"No Sam…" _John replied after a long drawn out sigh, _"He told me. But he also told me that you were able to snap out of it."_

"Yeah, well I won't for much longer." Sam spat spitefully.

There was a pregnant pause, and for a moment all Sam heard was the large propellers above him, and the rumbling engine of the Impala over the phone line.

_"What do you mean?" _John finally asked after catching his breath.

"I mean," Sam began to explain through his rising anger, "I'm changing too fast…only a few more days, dad. If that."

_"No Sam, no." _John demanded, it was apparent he too was becoming frustrated, _"You gotta hold on, son…just for a little bit." _

"Bye, dad." Sam bade before shutting his phone and placing it back in his pocket.

He sighed deeply and tried to focus on calming down. He sat up on the cot in the middle of the floor and closed his eyes.

Just then, the basement door creaked open before slamming shut, followed by the sound of feet storming down the basement steps.

Here it comes, Sam thought to himself when suddenly the barred slot on the iron door slid open and on the other side of the door stood an angry looking Bobby.

"What the hell's the matter with you, boy?" Bobby demanded, his red flustered face showed clearly through the slot, "I heard what you said to your dad, ya idjit. He's gone to help you! This ain't just some random hunt he's on!"

"What the hell are you calling my dad for Bobby?" Sam demanded, standing from the cot with an accusing look directed at Bobby on the other side of the door.

"I figured maybe he'd talk some sense into you! You shouldn't lock yourself away down here." Bobby argued with wide eyes.

There was a sudden painful twinge in Sam's upper gum, and for a moment he tasted blood as his face scrunched up into a mask of disgust. His two front teeth hurt, but in an oddly familiar way. He could recall when he was younger feeling the exact same pain in his teeth when his baby-teeth were pulled out, making way for his adult set.

Curious, Sam reached into his mouth and grasped his front teeth between two clawed fingers and found that sure enough they were loose…hell, they were practically dangling from his mouth. But just behind them he found smaller, but pointed and sharper teeth.

He cast Bobby a nervous glance, who he noticed was mirroring his expression back to him.

Not seeing the sense in keeping the dangling teeth where they were, Sam yanked them out quickly and spit the blood out on the floor. He lowered his hands to get a look at the human teeth in his hands that went all the way from the roots at the same time as he ran over his newer sharper teeth with his tongue.

At least that explained why his gums were throbbing, Sam thought to himself. He was beginning to lose his human teeth…which was actually rather disgusting.

After a moment of sitting in the silent room in sheer shock, Bobby finally cleared his throat but kept his eyes fixed on Sam. "It's speeding up kid…you're letting it speed up."

"What the hell do you mean I'm letting it speed up?" Sam demanded with a threatening snarl underlining his words.

"By sitting down here, waiting this out…you're letting the curse take you over. You gotta fight it, son." Bobby encouraged shakily.

"Bobby…I can't." Sam replied suddenly saddened instead of angry as tears swelled in his eyes, "It's already won…I can feel it."

"Don't you say that!" Bobby snapped, "Don't you dare!"

"It's stronger than me, Bobby." Sam explained as tears finally spilled from his eyes, "I feel myself slipping…in a couple days I won't be me anymore…there won't be anything left…just that _thing_."

"That's why you gotta give it your damndest, kid!" Bobby said, his own emotions getting the better of him as tears of his own fell down his face and disappeared into his beard, "I don't want to see you waste away down here."

Sam mulled that over in his mind for a moment. He toyed with the idea of leaving the panic room while he waited for Dean to return. He wanted to…he really did. But in his mind, he kept going over what happened in the kitchen over and over. He really could have killed Bobby…and then what? Would he have tried to eat him? Like he tried to eat Kelly? Even though that was a trap set by Gordon, Sam felt awful about it. He lost control…and he couldn't let anyone else get hurt if he did again.

Just then, the basement door opened followed by a call made by a familiar voice who clearly sounded worried. "Bobby! Sam! Ya down here?"

"Here, Dean." Bobby called back in a flat tone, not taking his eyes away from Sam for an instant.

The basement door then closed gently followed by Dean's footsteps coming down the stairs, and then him stepping onto the cement floor toward Bobby on the outside of the panic room.

"Did something happen?" Dean asked nervously as he approached Bobby, and took a peek into the panic room to find Sam standing upright looking toward his wide-eyed with something held in his open palm in front of him.

"What's up, Sam?" Dean wondered aloud, keeping his eyes on Sam's hands. He didn't miss how paw-like they looked, rather than human palms.

Sam glanced downward at his open hand, and stretched it out for Dean to get a better look at what he was holding.

Dean's eyes widened when he noticed his little brother was holding bloody human teeth in his hand. Immediately his eyes averted to Sam's face just in time to see Sam flash his newer sharper animal-like teeth.

"Damnit, Sammy." Dean swore under his breath, "I'm gone for a couple hours and all this happens? Why is it speeding up?"

"It's speeding up, because Sam's giving up." Bobby interjected with a pointed look at Sam.

Dean's green eyes widen as he glances back into the panic room in time to see Sam plop down on the cot as he dropped his teeth on the ground in the small puddle of blood where he had spit. He sighed, and looked up at the door where Bobby gave him an accusing look, and Dean gave him an almost judging one. But Sam didn't miss the miserable emotion lying just beneath Dean's glare.

"Giving up?" Dean questioned, his voice suddenly thick and filled with an even mixture of anger and melancholy, "You're giving up on us, Sammy? After everything?"

Sam didn't reply, instead he focused on the pain building in his skull and thought about how much it would suck to have a vision right now, if that's what it was. But at the same time, he doubted it.

"I thought you were stronger than this, Sam." Dean continued as he turned his eyes down to his own feet, he didn't want his little brother to see him fail to keep his tears in check.

"Hell…" Dean choked as he felt his face grow warm as his emotions continued to get the better of him, he didn't bother putting up his game-face, "I went on that mission to get that kid with dad because I thought you were gonna be strong enough to fight this while I was away."

Another silence took hold of the men as both Dean and Bobby fixed their eyes on Sam. He turned his curious eyes up toward his brother, to let him continue to get this off his chest.

"You let me down, Sammy." Dean muttered suddenly as more warm tears slipped down his cheeks smoothly.

"Dean…if you were in my place right now…you'd know what I'm talking about…I'm just tired, dude. It's stronger than me now. It can take me over whenever it wants." Sam explained, desperately trying to keep himself calm, but failing as more tears welled in his golden eyes.

"So you're rolling over and dying? You're giving up?" Dean snapped with a pointed glare. He then leaned in closer to the bars on the door and whispered intently, "How do you expect me to do this without you? I can't, Sam."

"You did alright when I went away to Stanford." Sam replied with a shrug after he sniffled, trying to decongest himself.

"I didn't." Dean informed weakly, "I swung by Stanford as often as possible. Just to check up on you. I wasn't about to leave you alone in the world."

Another uncomfortable silence filled the room, and Sam hung his head shamefully – trying desperately not to meet Dean's miserable gaze.

"And besides…" Dean suddenly continued before licking his lips to relieve them of their dryness, "You only went away then…but this? Sam, we're talking about you dying, here…in a manner. I mean…you know what the curse does, dude. It's gonna lock you inside your own body, and you won't be able to move on until your body dies."

"Well when I turn, you're gonna end up killing me, Dean." Sam informed sounding cold, and slightly void, "I won't kill that kid when dad finds him…so I've got no options left. And I'm sure Bobby doesn't want to keep a Beast down here until Judgment Day."

"I'm not gonna kill you." Dean promised with a look of fortitude on his face, "No matter what form you come in…you're still my brother. And I _will not_ kill you."

"I'm opening the door." Bobby announced as he turned the large wheel on the door, and pulled it open with great strength.

There stood Dean and Bobby just on the other side of the threshold watching Sam intently, silently hoping he'd leave the room and join them upstairs. Dean needed him to fight for just a little bit longer.

Suddenly Sam sighed, and looked up at his brother. "If I attack anyone else…I don't care how much you beg or plead. I'm staying down here…I don't want to hurt anyone else." Sam promised.

"Fine." Dean agreed looking satisfied, but definitely still angry.

With that, Sam stood from the cot and paced toward the door and stepped through the threshold into the basement. He gave Dean and Bobby a thankful look before heading up the stairs with both of them at his heel.

He figured he could hold on for just a little while longer.

* * *

_Brotherly moment for everyone....my way. :D_

_Definitely more coming soon! _


	21. Deal With The Devil

_Chapter 21_

* * *

John and Ellen checked into a Bed & Breakfast in the quaint little town of Pleasant Springs. Their room was small really, and if they could have gotten separate rooms they would have. Only it seemed the Bed & Breakfast was about the size of someone's house…as in, John nearly passed it going down the road until he noticed the sign on the front lawn.

So John and Ellen slept in the same room. Ellen of course took the queen sized bed, and John took the broken yet lumpy floral patterned recliner chair.

But it wasn't like they were doing too much sleeping anyway. They both had their eyes peeled for a way to help Sam, meaning they had to find this kid. But where would the demons take him?

Actually the more John thought about it, the more it seemed to make sense. The demon he had let into his body told Sam, Dean, and Bobby who the kid was, and since he escaped instead of being exorcised, surely the other demons now knew what happened to Sam and what his family was trying to do in order to help him.

However what John found most disconcerting was the phone call he had gotten from Bobby only a couple hours ago telling him that Sam had some sort of episode but broke through and was able to stop himself before he hurt anyone. But when he noticed what he nearly did, he locked himself in the panic room in a desperate attempt to hide himself away so he didn't hurt anyone else again.

John then as soon as he hung up with Bobby, called Sam's phone. Sam didn't want to hear what he had to say; instead he only made him feel worse by throwing what was happening to him in his face.

John wasn't a naïve man. He could admit to himself that he definitely wasn't 'Father of the Year', but Sam and Dean were still his children, and he loved them as such. So here Sam is, accusing John of not caring enough to be there for him.

He knew that Sam may probably undergo this transformation while he was away. It was a sacrifice John willingly made because he hoped that maybe when the animal was present in Sam's mind, it wouldn't think too much about killing this kid.

It was a cheap shot, John knew. Trying to get Sam to attack this child when he wasn't in his right state of mind seemed pretty unethical, but John was out of options. And his family _always_ came first.

But to John's relief, not long after his phone call to Sam, he had gotten a call from Dean telling him that he had arrived at Bobby's and had talked Sam into coming out of the panic room.

That was something Dean was always good at, John knew. Dean, no matter what, could always get through to Sam.

But what had John most worried was when Dean told him that Sam had gone in there with every intention of not coming out. Sam had given up, and had made the cot in the panic room his Death Bed.

The thought of Sam just giving up like that sent a cold shiver up John's spine. And now he felt grateful to Dean for pulling Sam from the ledge.

But this just meant that now John had to do everything in his power to put Sam back to normal again. Everything. At this point, John wasn't even worried about the cost.

So now John sat perched on his 'bed', of course meaning the horrible pink floral recliner with a laptop open, and balancing on his knees. Ellen on the other hand paced the room slowly; her cellphone pressed against her face as she spoke with Ash heatedly, but kept her eyes fixed on the sheet of paper in her hands.

As of yet, no one has found anything useful telling them where Jeremy was taken to. It seems these demons really didn't want the kid to be found. But still, John had a feeling that as soon as Sam completed his change, the kid would suddenly appear somewhere right under their noses. Because that's just how demons where. They were probably all watching Sam, and waiting patiently.

That thought made John cringe. It seems that no matter what happens to Sam, the demons are never that far behind.

"Okay Ash…just keep lookin'." Ellen requested as she pulled the phone away from her face and clicked it shut. As she slid her phone back into her pocket she plopped on the bed with a sigh, still keeping her eyes on the paper in her hands.

"Ash got nothing?" John asked, noting the look of clear frustration on Ellen's face.

She finally looked up from the paper intently and gazed at John before shaking her head. "Jo doesn't either."

"I do…sort of." John announced sounding slightly annoyed as he averted his eyes back to the laptop's glowing screen, "Demonic Omens just sprung up outta nowhere."

"Hell yeah," Ellen rejoiced feeling much more hopeful, "let's go get 'em."

"But…" John interjected, still looking sullen, "Not just here. Omens cropped up all around Wisconsin, South Dakota, North Dakota, and Minnesota - seems like the demons are trying to throw us off."

"Damnit!" Ellen swore, suddenly back in her sour mood, "Those bastards…"

"Yeah." John agreed.

"So we got a game plan?" Ellen wondered aloud, still keeping her eyes on John imploringly.

"As of now…? No." John replied, clearly frustrated.

Suddenly John's cellphone rang loudly from his pocket; the abrupt vibration on his thigh caused him to jump slightly before reaching into his pocket and retrieving his phone.

He looked at the ID, and was immediately suspicious when it flashed 'Unknown'.

Hesitantly, John flipped open his phone and held it up to his ear – his face a mask of determination as if whoever this was could see him right now.

"Hello?" John greeted harshly.

_"We have something you want, John." _A slimy serpent-like yet clearly feminine voice said almost gleefully.

"Jeremy?" John questioned, assuming he was speaking to a demon.

_"That's right." _The demon confirmed, _"And we understand that Sammy hasn't got much time left, is that right?"_

He knew that by saying 'yes' John would immediately lose the upper hand in the conversation, making him sound weak. And the _last_ thing you wanted to do in front of a demon…even on the _phone_ with one was show your weaknesses.

But thinking things over, John doubted very much that he had the upper hand to begin with – otherwise they wouldn't have felt safe enough to call him. They must've know that if John caught wind of where they were, he'd come after them.

Taking the risk, John swallowed his pride before muttering, "Yes."

_"Well John, it's your lucky day." _The demon teased smugly, _"We're feeling…rather _generous_ I suppose is the word for it_. _We're willing to let the kid go."_

"Yeah right." John snapped defensively, "What's the catch?"

_"How about I talk and you listen!" _The demon quipped back with a snarky tone. However, when she spoke again she seemed slightly more at ease, _"Now we're willing to give you the kid that could save Sam's life…but we'll need something in exchange." _

"What?" John demanded threateningly.

_"The Colt." _The demon replied simply.

Normally, this would be a tough call. The demons wanted The Colt. _The_ Colt, the only weapon John Winchester had that could actually _kill _the Demon that killed his wife and his son's girlfriend. It had only one bullet left, and John was saving it. The Yellow-Eyed Demon's name was written all over this bullet, and John was just _aching_ to send it into that bastard's skull.

But then again…if John didn't hand The Colt over to the demons, then he would lose _everything_. Because he knew that if Sam went down, then Dean wouldn't be too far behind. And then John knew he would have no one left to fight for.

And right then, it was no contest…but not without a few conditions.

"Fine." John agreed grudgingly, "But before you get anything from me, I'm gonna have to see that Sam will be okay with my own eyes."

_"That's fine." _The demon replied sounding suddenly bored, _"But you'll have to come to us to retrieve the kid. Four-Twenty-Four Westfield Ave, Green Plaines, Minnesota."_

Then the line went dead, and John pulled the phone away from his ear before closing it, and shoving it back into his pocket. His face looked worried yet pensive as he stared at the wall trying to think of why on earth this was so easy. Did the demons really just want The Colt that bad?

Sure it made sense. It was the only known weapon on the planet that could actually _kill_ demons – not just send them back to Hell, but _really_ kill them. John could see why it would pose a threat to them, even if it only held one bullet.

"John?" Ellen suddenly piped up sounding surprised.

John looked over at her and noticed that when he was on the phone Ellen had gathered her laptop and was glaring at the screen with a wide-eyed stare.

Immediately, John moved his own laptop from balancing on his knees to the nightstand that stood between the recliner and the bed. He got to his feet and looked over Ellen's shoulder to get a better look at what she was looking at.

After a few moments of reading the file that was up on the screen, John's eyes went wide and he cast his eyes over to Ellen who was now looking back at him.

"I got this e-mail from Ash." Ellen explained, "This sure puts an interesting twist on things."

It definitely did, John agreed to himself silently. And he hadn't even told Ellen yet about what the phone call was about.

But this information changed _everything_.

* * *

_Sorry this chapter was so short, but it needed to be done. Hehe. _

_And of course I had to put a twist on things! You'll just have to wait till the next chapter to see what the twist is exactly. Hehe. _

_Aw, I'm so evil! :D_


	22. The Descendant of Godrick

_Chapter 22_

* * *

It had taken a while, but once Dean and Bobby had gotten Sam out of the panic room, they finally got the kid to relax a little. He was tired – Dean could tell from the bags under his glossy golden eyes as he sat on the couch with a thin green blanket wrapped around him. But he wouldn't go to sleep.

Dean wanted to ask him why, but considering what just happened in the basement, he could pretty much guess why Sam was fighting to stay awake.

He figured that Sam wouldn't risk falling asleep because he knew the thing – the animal that prowled around his mind was stronger than him now. So if Sam fell asleep, maybe the thing would take hold of his consciousness and devour everything in its path with Sam's hands…and jaws.

But this was ridiculous, Dean thought to himself. Not so much the idea of the thing taking over while Sam was asleep, but the fact that Sam was too afraid to fall asleep! He was running on fumes, and living off nothing else but meat and coffee.

If Dean was being honest, he could see why Sam wanted to give up. But at the same time, he wasn't about to let his little brother die like this. He was such a great kid; he didn't deserve any of this.

There was a loud clanging of pots and pans sounding from the kitchen, and Dean knew Bobby was making them lunch – which he was rather grateful for. He didn't feel comfortable leaving Sam again.

Suddenly, one of Bobby's many phones began ringing and telling from the high-pitched ring – Dean guessed it was his cellphone.

There was a loud crashing and the sound of more louder clanging coming from the kitchen, followed quickly by a stream of Bobby's impressive swearing.

"You need help in there?" Dean offered in a slight yell so Bobby would hear him. But all Bobby did was continue his endless string of curses.

Chuckling softly when he heard Bobby finally answer his ringing cellphone, Dean turned his attention back to his younger brother – who didn't seem to hear anything that just happened as his bleary eyes continued to stare into space.

"You alright?" Dean asked in a lower voice, keeping his eyes on Sam.

But Sam didn't seem to hear him, though Dean could tell this wasn't a matter to get worked up over. Sam was just tired, and deep in his own thoughts.

So Dean huffed an annoyed breath, and made himself comfortable in Bobby's desk chair, and brought it over to the other side of the coffee table that separated him from Sam, to get a better look at his little brother.

Finally, after a few minutes of doing absolutely nothing constructive, Sam lets out a weary sigh as he pegs Dean with a stern look.

"You don't need to babysit me, Dean." Sam assured as he reached forward toward the coffee table in front of him and retrieved his crimson mug filled with his steaming black coffee. "I'm not lettin' this thing knock me down just yet."

Dean offered a half smirk, and nodded in silent approval. It was reassuring to hear Sam say this, but Dean knew his brother was a world class liar. He could keep secrets, and lie like nobody's business. But Dean _knew_ Sam better than anyone else did…he knew when Sam wasn't being completely truthful.

"That's good," Dean retorted, "because I'm not ready to let you go just yet."

Sam offered a lopsided grin, showing off his new set of teeth just barely. The sight sent a chill up Dean's spine, but he ignored it. Instead he turned his eyes downward to the space next to where Sam was sitting and saw as his naked tail flicked up and down in clear annoyance.

Dean suppressed a chuckle at the sight of his brothers' tail. He really should gain control of that thing if he was gonna bother lying to people. His tail moved on a subconscious level, Dean guessed – but it was a dead emotional give-away.

That moment was when Bobby decided to enter the room with swerving wide eyes going from Dean to Sam for a few seconds. Sam and Dean looked over at Bobby, both with twin looks of curiosity painting their features. In Bobby's hands, he held his cellphone in a death-grip – his knuckles white with effort.

"What's wrong, Bobby?" Dean finally spoke up, worriedly. Whatever had Bobby looking so freaked out could not be a good sign.

"Your dad's on the phone…" Bobby began, but his words choked off before he could finish his thought. He swallowed deeply to remoisten his mouth to finish his train of thought, "It's important."

Quickly, Bobby handed Dean his cellphone – Dean snatched it without a second thought and brought it to his face, his eyebrows rammed together upon hearing the static over the line, meaning his father was in motion and losing signal on his phone.

"Dad?" Dean asked urgently, "Dad, where are you?"

"Dean…I think we've been set up." John said sounding hopeless; his voice was thick as though he had been crying.

"What's wrong, dad? Where are you?" Dean asked sounding on the verge of panic. What had his dad and Bobby so freaked out?

"Ellen and I are headed to Minnesota. The demons have the kid, and told us where he is…in exchange for the Colt." John told truthfully, he practically spit out the last sentence as if it left a rotten taste in his mouth.

"You're gonna give the demons the Colt?" Dean wondered incredulously, but quickly pushed those thoughts aside. This was for Sammy. And if it came down to Sam's life and that gun, Dean figured it would be no contest.

"No." John choked out.

Well…Dean _figured_ it would be no contest. Instantly, his eyes shifted over to get a look at Sam who was looking back at him curiously, an eyebrow quirked in suspicion.

Instantly, Dean filled his entire being with intense anger and protectiveness. How in the world could his father chose a gun over his son's life? It wasn't worth it! Was this why Bobby and John were so freaked? John won't give up the Colt in hopes that one day he'll finish his precious hunt, and avenge his wife – Sam and Dean's mother?

The cost seemed too great for Dean. With him, if it came down to the Yellow-Eyed Demon, and Sam…Dean would pick Sam, and pray that they'd _never_ find the demon.

"You selfish bastard!" Dean swore furiously, "Why the hell not?"

Bobby's horrified look turned to one of confusion as he took in Dean's reaction, but still the elder hunter remained silent.

John took in a deep breath, and Dean could tell that he was crying again – which was a sound he never thought he'd hear. His father was the strongest man he knew. But if this decision was so hard on him, then why didn't he choose Sammy?

There had to be more to this, Dean decided as he took in a deep breath to steady himself.

"What's wrong, dad?" Dean asked worriedly.

John let out a final sob before finally answering. "We got an e-mail from Ash, just after the demons called about the ransom."

"Okay…and what did it say?" Dean prodded, trying to coax the information from his father a little impatiently.

"Jeremy Godrick is not a descendant of Elizabeth Godrick…" John finally said, sounding completely defeated.

Dean's breath froze in his chest as he fixed Bobby with a panicked look. "What the hell do you mean?"

"Jeremy Godrick was adopted by Melissa and Jerry Godrick when he was two years old. And telling from this file…Jerry Godrick has no blood descendant." John relayed miserably.

If Dean's last hope was made out of glass, his fathers' information was the hammer that just shattered it. Dean's mind was suddenly a whirlwind of thoughts and questions. He attempted to grip at some strand of an answer but came up empty.

"So you're gonna save this kid, anyway?" Dean finally asked, swallowing his river of thoughts as he prayed his father would just come home soon so they could discuss what to do next.

"We have to…" John admitted in a near whisper, "He's innocent in all this, so the demons took him for no reason."

"But Sammy needs you more." Dean quipped back, his anger suddenly rising again. He knew that his father was right, but right now his family needed him. Strangers be damned.

"I'll be back in a couple of days, Dean…tell Sam…tell Sam I love him, and that I'm sorry." John choked out. And Dean could practically hear John's fresh tears.

And just as Dean was about to swear his father out for ditching his responsibilities, John hung up the phone – cutting the call short.

"Hell no!" Dean screamed as he pulled the phone away from his ear and hit the redial button before replacing the phone to his face. But it was no use; John had turned his phone off now.

"NO!" Dean screamed in disbelief as he turned Bobby's phone off, and slammed it on the coffee table next to Sam's mug.

He looked up at his brother, and saw the despair clear in his eyes as he was looking off into space again. And Dean could tell, without a doubt that with Sam's now acute hearing – he heard everything he and his father just said.

"Sammy?" Dean said lightly, his voice sounding strangled as tears of his own threatened to spill out.

"Sam?" He tried again.

But Sam still made no effort to relay to Dean that he was listening, or even so much as in his own body. He just continued to stare away into the wall just behind Dean.

"We'll find something else." Bobby offered finally, "There's gotta be something else."

But neither Winchester replied. Sam continued to stare at the wall, and Dean continued to stare at Sam – silently willing him to say something to let him know he was still in there, still fighting.

However, after a few minutes of complete ear-splitting silence, Sam took in a deep breath and turned his attention to Dean intently.

"There's nothing else…" He finally said, his voice sounding small – but still stronger than Dean knew his was at the moment, "Just a matter of time."

And even though Sam said he wasn't giving up just moments ago, Dean could tell that he was right to think his brother a liar. He could practically feel Sam's will slipping, as he watched his brother lean his back against the sofa and close his eyes – finally surrendering to the deep sleep he fought so hard against.

Dean looked downward toward his brothers' tail for signs of another lie, but saw its droopy stillness and knew that Sam was being honest again.

Just a matter of time.

* * *

_Am I absolutely horrible for leaving the chapter off like this? Now, if I were a REAL bitch - I'd end the story here. But luckily, I'm not - so I'll try to give you more tomorrow. :)_

_Sorry for the long wait, guys. Things have been a little hectic, but I'm trying to give you at least weekly updates. And as you can tell from previous stories, if I could give you all a chapter a day, I would. So please don't think I'm just being mean. I won't leave you hanging. _

_And sorry this chapter is a little choppy, or dicey. I wanted to get this chapter up soon to give you all at least something. So please, just tell me what you think...even if you just wanna cuss me out. ;)_


	23. Escape Plan

_Chapter 23_

* * *

It had killed John to say the truth aloud to Bobby, and then even worse to say it again to Dean. When Ellen first showed him the e-mail, he managed to remain stoic, his face a mask of blankness. But then he and Ellen packed their things and started driving off, and he had time to think about what this really meant.

He was never going to see Sam, his youngest son – ever again.

The thought was enough to rip through his hardened features, and cause a couple of tears to slip past his guard. And as he kept his eyes on the road ahead, he made the choice to call Bobby.

Bobby went silent upon receiving the news, and John wished he was able to remain silent. But presenting the truth with his emotions behind his words caused his armor to crumble, and his blank face turn into one of true anguish.

Ellen kept her eyes on the landscape rushing past them out the passengers' window. This seemed like a family matter, but she's had the pleasure of getting to know Sam over the last few months – and he really was a great kid, with a supportive and loving family to back him up – no matter how small and fractured it was.

After John had broken the news to Bobby, the phone was passed to Dean.

And John couldn't hold back anymore. The moment he heard his eldest sons' voice, he broke into silent sobs – not caring if Ellen was there to witness his moment of weakness. She could shove it, as far as he was concerned.

But the news was hardest on Dean, John knew. It was hard on everyone, sure – hard on himself because he had to save this innocent child before he was torn apart by demons, meaning he wouldn't reach Sam in time before he…changed.

It was hard on Bobby, because he's known Sam since the kid was about five. He and Dean would prance around his Salvage Yard as kids like they owned the joint – and in no time at all was Bobby then called their 'uncle'. He was their Uncle Bobby growing up – but once the boys made it out of High School the boys stopped calling him 'uncle', he didn't take it personally, he knew they hadn't stopped caring about him as if he were an uncle; just like he wouldn't stop caring for them as if they were his sons.

But this crushing news was _definitely_ hardest on Dean.

When John would go away on hunts, Dean would be there to take care of Sam always. From the moment Dean carried Sam out of their burning home where their mother died to now – Dean knew Sam has always been his responsibility.

So of course John wasn't surprised when Dean didn't take the information well. He was actually expecting worse, which was why when he hung up on Dean he turned his phone off. He wasn't in the mood to hear about what a bad father he was.

But the moment he got off the phone with Dean, he quickly pulled himself together and mopped up his face. He had a job to do, and didn't need anyone else to see how vulnerable he was at the moment.

Now John and Ellen were approaching the house in Minnesota after having driven all night long, and not uttering a word to each other.

It was clearly an abandoned house, John noted as he slowed the car to a crawl in front of the black house with white plastic tarps on the windows, and a space where the front door should have been. The wood planked floor that made up the front porch was albeit caved in; some of the steps that lead up to the porch were even missing. The house itself was black clearly from a fire that occurred years ago, but no one has bothered to rebuild it.

Definitely too shady, and a bit off the grid, John noticed as this house seemed to be the only house in a few miles - it was surrounded by open fields. If anything sketchy were to go down in this town…this would be the ideal house to do it in.

John stopped the car in front of the house, and pulled his flask of holy water from his duffel bag in the back seat, and placed it in the front pocket of his leather jacket.

"You sure about this, John?" Ellen asked in a shaky voice, clearly worried. Her eyes remained fixed on the two shotguns lying on her lap.

"Definitely not." John replied honestly before sighing deeply and opening his door and stepping out into the morning air.

Ellen swore to herself as she opened the passengers' side door and stepped out of the car as well, before slamming the door shut behind her. Once out of the car, she slung one of the guns over her shoulder, and held the other one out in front of her carefully.

John led the way up the steps, onto the porch carefully with Ellen behind him with her shotgun out and cocked at the ready.

Once they were both on the busted porch with little problems, other than the constant creaking that sounded every time they shifted their weight – surely announcing their presence, John stuck his head through the threshold into the house to get a quick look.

He sighed, but kept his guard up regardless upon seeing three people in what looked like the living room area. The room was definitely singed and unsound – the walls black from the severe burns, and what was once probably a hardwood floor was now a mess of jagged pieces of black, and dark brown wood and some rusted nails.

It looked as if the living room were a battlefield.

But in the middle of the room was a new looking blue floral recliner chair – and sitting in the chair looking completely relaxed sat a middle aged woman with long dark straight hair that went down to her midriff. She wore a black business suit, over a white shirt and black pants with her right leg crossed over her left one. Her thin face instantly went to John's the moment he peeked into the room, and a wicked smile formed over her features.

Behind the woman were two well built men also in black suits, John assumed they were body guards. But who was this woman, and why did she need protection?

"You can come on in, John Winchester." The woman said as her blue eyes instantly bled black.

John walked into the house carefully, keeping his eyes on every possible threat in the room. He looked from the woman in the chair, to the two men behind her over and over as if silently evaluating their strengths and weaknesses.

"Where's the boy?" John asked instantly, focusing solely on the woman now.

"Jeremy? Aw, c'mon John…you know what they say about all work and no play." The demon teased with a playful wink.

"Where is he?" John asked again, this time with more force in his tone.

"That's how you want it then?" The demon asked a little more seriously, "Fine then…but I promise you…this isn't the boy you're looking for."

John swallowed his emotions as they threatened to suddenly burst to the surface. "I know."

"You do?" The demon asked looking relatively surprised before looking a little disappointed, "And here I was hoping Sammy would eat his heart out."

"Don't make me ask again." John threatened in a deep voice.

"First show me the Colt." The demon demanded, all playfulness suddenly gone from her tone.

With little hesitation, John pulled a colt revolver from his waistband and held it out in the open for the demon in front of him to get a good glimpse. Her serious look suddenly turned to one of displeasure, and almost anger.

"That's a nice gun…" she spat with her beady black eyes now fixed on John, "But I want to see the Colt, John…_the_ Colt."

"What are you talking about?" John asked with wide eyes.

How did she know this wasn't the real Colt? Meg sure didn't a little less than a year ago. No one was supposed to know what the gun looked like.

"I know what the Colt looks like, John." The demon quipped back venomously, "I've been around for a while. Now, I'm done fooling around. Give me the Colt, or watch me kill the boy!"

The demon snapped her fingers, and suddenly another man in a black suit entered the room holding what appeared to be a rope – but what caught John's eye was at the other end of the rope. The other side of the rope was looped and knotted into an awful looking leash, placed around Jeremy's neck. The little boy walked behind the demon, stumbling a little, but otherwise looking relatively unharmed – no matter how terrified he looked.

The boy had dark brown hair cut into a bowl cut just above his eyes. His red and blue horizontal stripped shirt was caked with dirt and blood, while his jeans had impressive holes over his scraped knees.

The man came to a halt at the woman's side, making the kid stop next to him – standing between the man and the woman.

Quickly, John dropped the fake gun in his hands, and with an eye roll he withdrew the real Colt from the back of his waistband.

"That's better." The woman said with a pleased smile on her face, "Now, hand the gun over to the one holding the leash."

"Give me the boy first." John demanded stubbornly.

"Fine." The woman said lazily as she fixed the demon holding the leash with a pointed look.

The demon nodded curtly before tossing the end of the rope toward John who caught it easily as he whispered kind and encouraging words to the young Jeremy. He then reeled the boy in closer to him gently as he screamed on the top of his lungs. "ELLEN! NOW!"

Suddenly Ellen was in behind John with her shotgun out and at the ready as she pulled the one from her back in one slick movement and tossed it to John who caught it as reflex.

Ellen then blasted the woman in the chair full of rocksalt as well as the demon that once held the leash.

Once John was cocked and ready, he fired his own rocksalt rounds into the other two demons that only had time to make half a move before the demon they were assigned to protect was shot.

Even though they were out for the count, John and Ellen continued to shoot the rocksalt into the demons until they were out of ammo.

John and Ellen both swore in unison once they were empty, and quickly grabbed the boy before rushing back to the car – knowing they didn't have much time before the demons woke up.

But they made it with the boy and the Colt.

But John knew the demons wouldn't let this go so easily. They would be back after him soon, and they weren't going to be happy.

* * *

_Oookay, this chapter's in the bag. Haha. _

_But things are gonna go downhill pretty fast for our boys. This isn't gonna go down so smoothly. _

_Lets just say...I'm REALLY excited to write the next two or three chapters. :)_


	24. Creature

_Chapter 24_

* * *

Dean had decided it would be best to let Sam remain sleeping for the time being. He was going through so much, and had just learned that he probably wouldn't make it out of this.

Bobby had volunteered to do some more research and ask around a bit more, but he doubted he would find anything. Dean on the other hand stayed by Sam's side, watching him silently for any signs of him going wild in his sleep.

At the moment, Sam had his back to Dean as he scrunched his large frame onto the couch in a horizontal position, shutting himself out from the world around him in a ball - a thick gray blanket draped over his body up to his neck and past his feet, hanging off the armrest of the couch.

Dean actually had to wonder how Sam – being the large hulking man he was – could manage such a feat. He managed to make himself look so small on that couch, which only made Dean feel worse.

He felt like he failed Sam. On the inside – Dean was a whirlwind of questions and emotions. His father just told him that his little brother was probably going to die within the next couple of days. How was he _supposed_ to feel about that?

And to think, he pulled Sam away from the ledge for _this_, Dean thought to himself miserably. Sam was willing to give into his curse, let it take him while Dean was away. But Dean had stopped him, telling him that there was still hope – Sam would be human again.

But now, no one seemed to believe it – not even himself, Dean realized angrily.

"Dean."

Dean turned around with wide; alert eyes to face the sudden intruder who he didn't even hear enter the room. But the moment his green eyes rested on Bobby, leaning against the white lining of the threshold between the living room and the library, he relaxed only a bit.

"I just got a text from John…" Bobby began hesitantly, knowing any subject involving their dad wouldn't sit well with Dean at the moment, "they got the kid, and they're on their way back here with him."

"Why?" Dean snapped, his full attention now on Bobby, "Jeremy can't help Sam, so why's dad bringing him here?"

"Apparently your dad tricked the demons into handing Jeremy over, and managed to keep the Colt. But they're gonna be pissed, and looking for the kid at his house…its logic, son."

"But what's gonna happen to this kid when Sam…" Dean's voice trailed off brokenly, he didn't know how to finish that question.

When Sam's better?

When Sam's changed?

So Dean drew in a deep breath, and skipped ahead of his train of thought, knowing that Bobby knew what he meant. "We can't just keep the kid here forever."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, I guess." Bobby replied with a small shrug.

"Great, so we weren't stressed enough dealing with Sam's _condition_, but now we gotta friggin' babysit too?" Dean spat, irritably.

"I'm sure your dad's not intending on _keeping_ the kid, Dean! This is only temporary!" Bobby argued.

"I don't want this brat here at all! We've got enough on our plate already without a kid being tossed into the mix, don't you think?" Dean retorted, his voice rising with every word.

"Well this ain't up to you, ya idjit!" Bobby snapped irritably, "Now quit yer whinin', ya cry-baby."

"Screw you." Dean quipped back with little thought.

Suddenly, to both Dean and Bobby's surprise a soft uncomfortable moan sounded through the living room, and immediately all conversation halted and both set of eyes fell on Sam.

His back was still to both his brother and Bobby, but Dean noticed Sam's shoulders tremble slightly causing clear lines of evident worry to form on his face.

"W-w-will you thoo schut up!" Sam growled tiredly, his speech clearly broken and awkward sounding almost as if he had a large wad of cotton shoved in his mouth at a lame attempt to steady his fumbling mouth through his shivering.

"Sammy?" Dean called softly – all anger suddenly gone from his expression, "Are you alright?"

There was a long silence, and for a while Dean thought Sam wasn't going to answer. He turned toward Bobby with wide eyes, but the elder hunter kept his eyes trained on Sam as if he were evaluating him. Dean quickly turned his attention back to his brother, and thought to himself if Sam didn't answer – or at least turn around – within the next few seconds, Dean would forcefully roll him over to face them.

Dean placed a shaky hand on Sam's upper arm, a feeble attempt to steady his brothers' shaking form before forcing him to face the world – when Sam's hand flew out quickly and draped over his brothers' hand harshly.

What Dean saw caused him to gasp loudly, too late to hide from Sam or Bobby.

Only just this morning did Sam's hands look for the most part – relatively human. But now there was no denying its more canine shape.

His thumb had shrunken down to just above his wrist into just a small nub with a sharp curved claw protruding from it, no longer resembling a thumb but looking more like a wolf-like dewclaw. His other fingers and shrunken too, Dean noticed with bewilderment and fear – no longer looking like fingers, but canine-like toes on the end of a rather large paw. His metacarpal bones that made up his once human looking hands had shifted to better suit a wolf.

The thick pad-like cushion on Sam's palm had taken a soft almost triangular shape like a paw – making it impossible for Sam to ball his 'hands' into a fist. While the pads on Sam's fingertips (or toes now…) had swelled and turned more ball-like.

The long, thick, sharp claws that had once protruded from Sam's fingertips now looked sheathed or covered by the more paw-like looking structure. Still sharp and deadly if used the right way – but somehow seemed a little less threatening.

Dean had seen his fair share of dogs in his life (who hasn't?), and even a few wolves. But only once had he ever seen a paw look this big, and this dangerous.

…A few weeks ago, in Elkhorn Wisconsin…when he and his brother killed the Beast of Bray Road.

Except this paw wasn't covered in dark fur…yet.

"What in the…" Bobby started, but suddenly lost his voice as his wide eyes trained over Sam's hands.

Quickly and probably much rougher than he should have been, Dean pulled his hand away from Sam's, and made a grab for Sam's other hand, only to find it in the exact same condition. Dread filled his gut in an icy grip, as he pulled the thick gray blanket from Sam's lower half to get a look at his feet only to find them in a slightly more awkward position.

Like Sam's hands, his feet were definitely more paw-like. But the 'foot' ended with the balls for his feet, whereas his ankles had grown away from the foot and taken on an odd angle to support a creature on four legs as well as two.

"Dean…" Sam sudden muttered weakly, immediately snapping Dean from his wide-eyed stare to gaze upward toward his brother, who was still facing away from him. But Dean didn't miss the panic in Sam's tone.

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean choked out, trying to keep his tears of defeat at bay.

"I-I-I can'th feel anything below mah waitht."

It took Dean a moment to comprehend what his brother was saying, when suddenly it clicked in his mind, suddenly understanding Sam's panicked voice.

He couldn't feel anything below his waist.

"What? Why?" Dean asked, stricken with intense fear causing his mind to fog.

Thankfully, Bobby seemed to have an idea before Dean did. The elder hunter quickly stepped in front of Dean – directly behind Sam, and pulled the thick gray blanket completely off, tossing it on the floor behind him and Dean.

Thinking fast, Bobby pulled down the elastic of Sam's boxers more so than it already was – making way for Sam's tail, but stopped just before the younger mans' buttocks was exposed, and put his hands on Sam's waist – pressing hard, trying to get a feel of his hips.

Under any other condition, Dean would have snapped some smart remark at Bobby, but instead he held his breath – hoping silently Bobby could come up for an explanation to his little brothers' sudden paralysis.

Bobby's lips thinned into a white line, and a look of surprised understanding overtook his face as he pulled his hands away from Sam's waist, and fixed his sweats to give cover yet again.

"Well…I'm no doctor," Bobby began between a deep sigh, "but I know what a human pelvis feels like, and that's what Sam's got."

"Okay..?" Dean muttered, clearly not grasping what Bobby was trying to say, but at the same time urging him to continue.

Bobby rolled his eyes looking impatient through his thoughtful glare. "And…? And from the waist down, Sam's got a pretty canine lookin' set up! A human upper half ain't gonna support that if he tried to walk somewhere!"

Realization dawned on Dean instantly. He nodded jerkily in understanding as he took a deep calming breath, with his eyes still fixed on Sam.

"My guess…he'll be fine in a short while if he goes back to sleep. The um…transformation is definitely speeding up, though." Bobby relayed, sympathetically.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…" Dean snapped, his eyes averting to Bobby instantly, "I'm not letting him go back to sleep! Look what happened last time!"

"I understand that Dean," Bobby replied in a much calmer voice, "but if you don't let Sam go back to sleep, the change will probably be only a little slower, and a lot more painful. And I don't think you want to cause him any more pain, do you?"

Dean sighed deeply as he looked back down at his brother, whose breathing had sped up into a slight pant. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and knelt at his brothers' side worriedly.

"What's wrong, Sam?" Dean demanded with deep concern.

"Thomthing'th n-not right." Sam replied. Dean instantly caught the tears in his brothers' voice.

"Are you hurt?" Dean insisted anxiously.

"A-a-all over-r-r." Sam responded in a broken shiver.

"Damnit." Dean swore to himself, desperately trying to keep his emotions under control. "Alright then, I'm gonna flip you over to get a better look at you, okay?"

Truth be told, Dean wasn't entirely sure if the jerk of Sam's head was a silent nod, or more tremors. But that was answer enough for Dean, apparently as he gripped both of his brothers' shoulders and forced Sam's limp body a little forward, so he was lying on his stomach.

"This is a little hard without your help, bro – just gimmie a second." Dean muttered with another strong shove forward, so Sam was finally facing the outside world through a curtain of his dark hair.

Dean then withdrew his hands from his brothers' shoulders and with one hand – he pulled Sam's hair away from his face, only to be met with a sight slightly more disconcerting than his _paws_.

Sam's face had swollen in such a way, giving him an almost dog-like appearance. The inner corners of his eyes were tugged downward slightly down the bridge of his nose while the outer corners of his eyes were pulled slightly higher, making his golden wolf-like eyes look narrower and slightly more animalistic.

The bridge of his nose, along with his cheeks and philtrum swelled to a point where his nose seemed to protrude from his face, giving him more canine features. However, his philtrum had a lined groove from the middle of his upper lip, where it was split like a dog to the middle up to the tip of his nose. The awkward formation of his upper lip, and nose exposed Sam's upper gum and teeth within his mouth, and Dean could see clearly why his speech was suffering.

Nothing resembling human teeth filled Sam's mouth. All his teeth had changed suitable for a creature who would be tearing into flesh. His front teeth were smaller points, but both of his incisors had grown and pointed into an impressive set of fangs.

A sudden hopelessness filled Dean's being as he looked over his little brother, no longer able to hold back his tears. Sam didn't deserve this.

Gone were the planes of his human cheekbones, and facial structure – making him look like an awful mix of dog and man – like something out of a nightmare.

* * *

_Okay...not gonna lie, this chapter was a bitch to write. Haha. _

_So feedback is very much appreciated. :)_


	25. All The Best Cowboys Have Daddy Issues

_Chapter 25_

* * *

Dean knelt by Sam's side for what seemed like hours just looking at what had happened in only a couple short hours of sleeping. Sam had given up, and now the curse was tearing him apart freely.

Sam's golden eyes peered into Dean's stricken face with what looked like annoyance. How Sam managed to keep his 'bitch-face' intact after such a drastic change was beyond Dean, but at the same time he was grateful for it.

"It'th bad ithn't it?" Sam murmured weakly, suddenly lowering his gaze as his 'bitch-face' shifted into a mask of shame.

"Nah…it's not that bad." Dean lied, instinctively placing his game-face over his worried expression, "I doubt anyone would notice."

Sam released a quick breathy chuckle as he lifted his upper lip slightly, just long enough for Dean to get a better look at his slick white curved fangs.

"We're gonna fix this Sam…there's gotta be a cure or something." Dean said, desperately trying to calm him and his brother down.

"I…I don't th-think tho, Dean." Sam replied hopelessly through his light shivering, "It'th too late."

"Sam, why don't you go back to sleep for a while." Bobby offered with a sympathetic half-smile, "Dean and I will figure something out, and hell – maybe your dad will be back by the time you wake up, next."

"M-my back…hurth." Sam complained lightly as his eyelids drifted closed.

"Alright, son." Bobby replied in a gentle voice, "I'll bring ya some painkillers, but try and get some more sleep, alright? When you wake up, you should be able to walk again."

Sam gave a small jerky nod, but didn't give a verbal reply as Bobby offered him another smile before heading behind him into the other room to fetch the painkillers.

After a short while, Sam sighed and reopened his eyes to gaze up at his brother who was still staring down at him, only instead of looking utterly terrified, Dean looked slightly more composed. But Sam wasn't an idiot; he knew Dean was just putting on an act.

"Do y-you know…when dad w-w-will be back?" Sam asked in a low voice, trying to keep out of Bobby's earshot.

Dean looked a little startled by the question, before looking slightly thoughtful. "Not till early tomorrow…maybe late tonight if the traffics good, and he speeds…why?"

Sam didn't answer right away, but instead he lowered his gaze again. For a moment Dean thought Sam was dropping the conversation, and it would remain silent until Bobby came back in the room…

…Until Sam inhaled deeply, and gave an abrupt reply which sounded alarmingly similar to a growl.

"Jutht wanted to know when to ekthpect the thon-of-a-bitch."

Dean was silent for a moment as he processed his brothers' words, trying to think of a quick translation. But once it clicked, Dean was a bit startled.

_("Just wanted to know when to expect the son-of-a-bitch.")_

Sure, he had yelled at their dad when he called and said the Jeremy angle was a dead end, and he yelled at Bobby when their dad told the elder hunter that he was bringing the kid back with him. But truth be told, Dean was angrier at the entire situation in general than he was at John.

He knew their dad; he knew he didn't not love him or Sammy. But he had to save the kid, and after a while Dean finally understood how that decision had torn John up.

Dean's own hopeless views of the situation had clouded his common sense, and once he hung up the phone and his head was a little clearer – he remembered distinctly their fathers' tears in his voice. He remembered how completely and utterly defeated John sounded when he told Dean that Jeremy was adopted, and can in no way help Sam.

But apparently Sam didn't seem to get it. He wasn't on the phone with their dad; he didn't hear the complete loss resounding in his voice.

So in Sam's mind…John had chosen a hunt over his own son.

With a new understanding running through Dean's mind, he sighed deeply as he thought of the best way to approach this issue. Sam was pretty pig-headed, once he gets an idea in his head – good luck convincing him he's wrong.

"Sammy…I thought the same thing a little while ago, too." Dean began in a low voice and downcast eyes, "I seriously thought dad was picking this stranger over his own family…but he already went in search of the kid under false pretenses – hell, I went with him at first! Once he found out the kid was innocent in all this, and just being pulled into this demon drama…dad had to make a decision…either come back here, and watch you suffer, or save that innocent kid from a bunch of demons."

Sam didn't say anything; he only kept his eyes fixed on his brother intently – silently urging him to continue.

"He had to save the kid, Sammy…I mean, it would hurt like hell – but if I were in his shoes, I'd probably make the same call." Dean conveyed carefully, hoping Sam would drop his grudge toward their father.

But as Dean thought about it, in all honesty – he wasn't sure if he would have the strength to go out of his way to save the kid, once learning he was innocent in the whole matter. Dean knew he probably would have gone back to Sam. But then again, he didn't think he was as strong as his father.

Still though, Dean sighed deeply as he shook the thought from his mind before he continued speaking.

"Sam – man, you should have heard dad on the phone. You could tell it wasn't an easy decision to make. He was a complete mess about it."

That seemed to catch Sam's attention as his head snapped up to get a better look at his brother, his eyes imploring Dean to continue. "He wath?"

_("He was?")_

Dean only nodded simply as he made eye contact with his little brother for a split second before dropping his gaze – not being able to keep his eyes fixed on Sam looking like that. It was almost like this curse was mocking him by changing Sam so drastically – mocking him by going after the one person he cared about more than himself. It sent a painful spike through Dean's chest at the thought of some _animal_ inside his brothers' head, just waiting to take control.

"You should try and forgive him, Sammy." Dean muttered with a phony half smile of reassurance.

To Sam and Dean's surprise, there was an abrupt knocking on the wall behind Dean. Sam had been too busy focusing on his brothers' words to notice Bobby appearing in the threshold. His head snapped up at full alert with wide eyes glaring at Bobby curiously at the same time as Dean turned around to face the intruder.

Upon seeing Bobby, the brothers relaxed, visibly deflating. Seeing that as an invitation, Bobby stepped in the room with a small orange bottle of prescription pills in his hand. Once he reached Sam's side, Bobby popped the bottle open, and shook out two tiny red pills into his hand.

He looked down at the awkward structure of Sam's paws, and sighed. "I can't just give 'em to you, I'm guessin'…I could just give 'em to you directly..?"

Sam lifted his upper lip in halfhearted disgust at the thought of Bobby feeding him pills. But at the same time he knew it was the only way to get them in his mouth since his 'hands' were no longer up to such a task. So he gave Bobby a curt nod, and let Dean lift the upper half of his body to make swallowing the pills down easier.

As Sam opened his mouth revealing all of his sharpened teeth, Bobby dropped the pills onto Sam's tongue gently without so much as a flinch…which was more than you could say for Dean once Sam opened his mouth.

Not wanting Sam to have to dry swallow the pills, Dean grabbed the mug of now freezing coffee that Sam had been drinking out of earlier that day and held it up to Sam's lips.

Gratefully, Sam drank down the bitter cold coffee along with the tiny red pills and nodded a silent 'thanks' to Dean and Bobby.

Once he was sure the pills were down, Dean placed the coffee mug back on the table before lowering his brother back into a laying position on the couch.

"Dean..?" Sam said in a muttered question to get is brothers' attention.

Dean looked down at Sam again with a tiny smile present on his face. "What's up?"

Sam closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before his breathing evened out into slow and steady breaths, and for a moment Dean was sure Sam had fallen asleep on him.

But then Sam opened his eyes just a crack before relaying his thought in a murmur. "I wanna thee dad again."

_("I wanna see dad again.")_

And Dean knew instantly what Sam meant with alarming clarity. Sam was saying he wanted to see their dad one more time before he could no longer recognize him.

And in that moment Dean wanted to do nothing more than to punch his little brother in the face and scream at him for talking like he was dying…but he couldn't bring forth the effort to yell at Sammy.

He looked down at his little brother, and his heart broke. Sam looked like he was on the verge of death – so frail, and broken. His skin was so white it was almost gray as it seemed to be stretched to its limit on his canine features of his face. And Sam's suffering was very clear to Dean in that moment.

Swallowing down the lump in his throat that had formed at the same time his eyes began to moisten; Dean offered Sam another phony smile before replying with a muttered, "You will, Sammy. Just hold on till then."

But Sam was no longer listening, his eyes were now closed completely and Dean was sure – without a doubt that Sam was fast asleep.

* * *

_Hm...more tomorrow, guys. :)_


	26. Failures Not Flattering

_Chapter 26_

* * *

It had been hours later, and Dean was completely devastated. He would check on his brother constantly, turning his limp form over, looking for more changes, more alterations, but so far all Dean could find was his pointed ears seemed set higher, as if they were slowly reaching for the top of his head.

But other than that, nothing else had happened which Dean was grateful for.

Bobby on the other hand had taken up pacing in the kitchen with a phone to his ear as he divulged into a heated discussion with some other guy about the differences between werewolves and The Beast of Bray Road. All that seemed to be doing though was provoking Dean's anger.

It had been a long day for Dean. He had managed to talk Sam out of giving up, only to have their father drain away their last shred of hope. And then of course, there were Sam's sudden physical alterations Dean hadn't noticed right away, that came when he fell asleep. That day was just too stressful and too exhausting, and Dean couldn't see the next day being any better.

Finally the day had come to an end – the sky was a deep dark blue, mostly black without a single star in the sky. Dean looked down at his watch and noticed to his greater annoyance that it was only eleven-thirty.

They still hadn't heard anything from their father either. They knew John and Ellen were on their way back with Jeremy, but the last time anyone had spoken to John was hours ago – he had to be close by now, right?

Dean hoped so; he wasn't sure how much longer Sam could last.

Dean watched from his seat across from the couch where Sam slept as his little brother exhaled deeply and rolled over onto his back, but turned his face from Dean's line of view. His attention was then drawn to Sam's white pillow cushioned beneath his head. Dean's eyebrows knit together in confusion upon seeing the clumps of dark hair that littered the pillow.

He pushed himself up out of his seat, and dropped to his knees at Sam's side once again to get a better look. Sure enough, Dean noticed that the hairs on the white pillows were indeed Sam's hairs.

Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair experimentally, and pulled away only to have another clump of hair, stick to his hands. Still confused, Dean shook the clump from his hand, and bent down to get a better look at Sam's head.

To his astonishment, there wasn't any sort of bald spots – but instead some darker (almost black), thicker hairs had grown in place of his soft light brown hair. Running his fingers over the patch of coarse thick dark hair, Dean realized it wasn't hair at all.

It was fur.

"Damnit." Dean muttered to himself angrily.

Suddenly – fast enough to make Dean startle and pull himself back in surprise – Sam's head snapped upward to face the ceiling with his golden eyes open and searching. His breaths which were just slow and steady a moment ago were now coming in as hard and heavy pants as he gasped for air.

"D-D-Dean!" Sam murmured; his voice full of alarm and melancholy as his wide eyes found his brother.

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked; suddenly back at his brothers' side. He caught how freaked out Sam sounded, which in turn caused him to freak out.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth together as a wave of pain assaulted his lower body – sweat beaded down his forehead and began dripping. "I-i-it'th…h-h-h-hap-happening!"

_("It's happening!")_

"No, no, no, no, no – come on Sammy, fight it!" Dean begged as tears began to leak freely from his eyes as he watched his brother in so much agony.

"P-p-p-anic…roo-oom…" Sam begged before his loud screams overlapped the crunching and snapping of his pelvis and spine beginning to align for his newer shape.

Just as Sam began screaming, Bobby ran straight into the room with a look of astonishment on his face as Sam's back arched off the couch leaving only his head and legs behind. To Dean's displeasure, Sam's screams only grew louder.

"We gotta get him downstairs, now!" Bobby yelled at Dean as he made a grab for Sam's legs – urging Dean to grab Sam's upper body.

But apparently, Sam wasn't ready for Bobby to grab him so harshly as he sat up with a wild look in his eyes and a snarl on his face as he swiped out at the elder hunter with unsheathed claws.

"Damnit!" Bobby exclaimed as Sam's sharpened claws raked across Bobby's right shoulder, instantly drawing blood, "Grab him!"

Not having to be told twice, Dean made a rough grab for Sam – looping his arms under Sam's armpits, causing Sam's arms to raise slightly – that sight settled Dean only a little, because this way he was out of reach of Sam's teeth and claws.

But Sam didn't seem too pleased as an animalistic roar ripped from his throat, overlapping his human sounding scream sounding like two dueling voices – causing the hairs on the back of Dean's neck to rise.

Probably a bit rougher than they should have been, Dean and Bobby hoisted Sam's body up and with Dean leading the way, they walked the struggling form through the kitchen.

Quickly, and with a skill Dean didn't know he possessed, Dean managed to shimmy the basement door open with his elbows even as Sam struggled and thrashed against his movements.

"D…ea-aenn!" Sam forced out through his gasping, screams, and moans.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry." Dean murmured to Sam as he lead the way down the stairs with the heavy weight of his younger brothers' upper body in his hands.

Tears fell freely from his eyes, he knew this was it. Their dad wasn't going to make it in time to catch Sam – the real Sam, before the monster took over.

"I-It..th…hap-happ-ening…t-t-oo f-f-fa-tht!" Sam groaned as tears of his own slid down his cheek.

_(It's…happening…too fast!")_

"No…come on, Sammy. Fight it – show that son-of-a-bitch in there whose boss." Dean encouraged, speaking of the _thing_ that was taking his little brother over, even as his tears still left wet tracks down his cheeks.

Sam only groaned as another wave of pain slammed into his back, and other heartbreaking _'CRACK'_ echoed through the basement as Sam arched his back violently through as he screamed so hard his face and neck were red as if sunburned.

As Sam arched his back in the awkward position Dean and Bobby had him, both men almost dropped him – and he would have been in more pain from falling down the stairs. But Dean gripped his brothers' shirt with both hands for dear life, and kept a firm grip – leading Bobby to follow his lead.

Once down the stairs, Dean and Bobby practically ran to the large iron door of the panic room when Sam's form suddenly relaxed as it seemed that wave of pain seemed to subside.

Sam's sudden weakness gave Bobby the perfect opportunity to release his hold from his exhausted body, and get the heavy door open with no problems.

Grateful for relief of his brothers' heavy struggling body, Dean and Bobby placed him gently on the cot in the middle of the room, and slowly backed out of the panic room again – Bobby closing the door behind him.

Dean opened the slot-like peephole instantly, he hated that he couldn't be by his brothers' side as he went through such agony, but if Bobby thought he was gonna leave him, then the man was insane.

But to Dean's surprise, Bobby didn't move. Instead he stood by Dean's side, and watched with a deep seeded fear and a sick fascination as Sam groaned in pain before rolling his muscular form onto the cement floor in an almost crouching position on his four paws.

Sam released an inhuman growl, and began to tear his shirt off with little effort when it suddenly began to feel too tight. In only a couple seconds, his gray shirt was in shreds on the ground around him. But to his greater frustration, his shorts were still binding him – so they were next.

Dean's eyes widened in horror when Sam's shredded shirt uncovered his naked chest and back. But his back was what caught Dean's attention, suddenly understanding why Sam was in so much pain in his back.

All the way from the bottom of Sam's skull, in his neck, to the base of his tail stood his thick bumpy spine protruding from his back as if it were trying to bust out of his skin causing uncomfortably large grooves all the way down to his tail.

The sight made Dean's stomach roll, but he held in his bile – not wanting to leave Sam's side for a moment.

Worse than his back, Dean soon realized was only moments later when suddenly Sam started throwing up blood in large quantities. From his first bout of blood-vomit, Dean was sure Sam was going to bleed to death and instantly grabbed the handle of the iron door in front of him with every intention of going in there.

But Bobby placed a firm hand on Dean's, and pointed back toward Sam with empty hollow eyes – as if Sam's changing had managed to somehow suck the life out of him.

Dean looked back into the room and watched Sam wretch again, only to have more blood pour from his mouth and nose, eagerly staining the cement floor around him as it spread slowly.

But through his second bout, Dean noticed to his revulsion that the tip of Sam's nose caved in and formed into a dog-like nose at the same time as his little snout started to pop and crackle loudly as it began to stretch out into a full on muzzle. His lips pulling too tight around his teeth suddenly seemed to tuck inward and darken to black like all dogs had. And as his mouth took on a new shape, it allowed room for his fangs to actually continue growing – as if they hadn't been big enough already, but it seemed to only be his incisors.

No longer able to make human screams, Sam's cried of pain choked off and turned into snarls and growls of anger as his head finished its final alterations, ending with his nose turning black and his ears rising to the top of his head.

His shoulder blades gave a loud _'POP'_ and the animal suddenly wailed furiously as his arms collapsed beneath him. But as soon as he got his feet out from under him, he would be able to stand more comfortably on his paws.

Dean's tears never ceased to fall from his eyes, as he watched everything that made up Sam's exterior was suddenly ripped away. The creature that lay in the room before them was _not_ Sam, not even close.

The creatures' pelvis gave a shudder, and then popped and cracked loudly as it straightened itself out so the monster could stand on two legs and four - four legs for speed and durability, two legs to take down the larger kills.

The Beasts' body suddenly began to sprout dark, almost black thick fur all over its body. The fur was thickest and longer around its neck, giving it a mane almost, and continued down his chest getting shorter and shorter as it reached his navel; fur sprout on its rat-like tail, now beginning to look thick and bushy in just under a minute.

And just like that, the transformation was over.

Dean finally turned to get a better look at Bobby, only to see the same blank look remained plastered on his face at the same time as tears fell freely from his eyes. The elder hunter was taking this hard, Dean knew. He knew he and Sam were like sons to him in a way.

And both he and Dean and John had tried so hard to keep Sam from becoming the thing that now lay in the adjacent room – but their failure was clear as the Beast that was once Sam finally made its way to all four feet and began to growl deep and low in its throat as it smelled fresh blood coming from both Dean and Bobby just on the other side of the door.

* * *

_Oh jeez...unfortunately I have to leave you lovely readers off like this for the weekend. You know, studying for finals and all... ._

_I wonder how John will react when he gets back to Bobby's...hmm...:)_


	27. The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

_Chapter 27_

* * *

The Beast was hungry; it felt a surge of exhilarating power and adrenaline pump through its newly formed body to give it an extra boost onto its feet. Once the animal was on four paws, it instantly began stalking around the circular room slowly in search of food. Its claws clicked on the cement floor as it moved with a certain graceful stealth, until it stopped dead in its tracks lifting its snout and sniffing at the air excitedly.

Blood…fresh blood…two meat donors just standing on the other side of the heavy door – it tilted its head in the general direction of the door, and instantly realized it was his now subordinate Human-Side's brother, and the man whose house they were in.

Strange how the father wasn't there, the Beast pondered for a moment before heading toward the door intently.

It chuckled a moment, but it came out more like a light growl. The Beast felt his Human-Side scratching away at its tiny prison in the back of its mind…like _it_ had been since the curse began. But that box was a distant memory now, the monster decided. It was out, and free – and that's all that mattered…besides feeding time.

The Beast approached the door, and stood up on its two legs to get a better look through the slot-like peephole at the Human-Sides brother and friend. It wondered for a moment, that if it were to kill them – the father too – would its Human-Side just give up trying to get back to the surface? Would the nescience submit?

It was an interesting thought to toy with, indeed.

But first things first, it had to get out of this physical prison now.

Dean looked into the monsters' eyes as it stared intently at him through the peephole, and didn't even flinch. He knew this wasn't his brother, but he knew his brothers' soul was trapped in there somewhere. Could he hear what was going on around him? Could he see through the Beasts' eyes? Dean decided it was worth a shot to try and test out.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean whispered brokenly, "I know you're in there, man. Fight this thing. You're stronger than it is, I know you are."

The Beast pulled its black lips back into a snarl, showing off its impressive set of sharp dagger-like teeth with its golden eyes directed straight at Dean.

A tear broke free of Dean's guard and slipped down his cheek, at the same time as the basement door slamming open, and a loud series of stomping down the stairs following suit.

Dean whirled around in time to see his father standing on the bottom step. John looked breathless and wide-eyed as he looked between Dean and Bobby back and forth rhythmically for a short moment.

"S-Sammy?" He asked in a near whisper.

Another tear found its way past Dean's guard, and he had to close his eyes and released a long jagged breath in order to straighten himself out before facing his father again. How could he tell his father that he was just _moments_ too late?

But John seemed to get the message as a tear of his own snaked down his chin leaving a shiny moistened trail behind as the bead disappeared into his chins stubble.

Quickly, John pushed his way past Dean and Bobby to get a peek in the panic room and almost completely broke down at the Beast that stared back at him.

It looked almost pleased to see him, John decided as the monster that was once his youngest son licked its chops relaying its hunger. It snarled at him when he didn't flinch, and the stalked away to the other side of the room with its ears plastered to its head – John decided it looked annoyed.

Getting a better look at the room the Beast was in; John noticed the pool of blood around the cot that was still seeping forward, painting the gray cement floor red. But in the pool of blood, John say shreds of clothing which he knew belonged to Sam…seeing them discarded and torn apart like that sent another wave of melancholy through him, and fresh tears slid down his cheeks.

"W-where um…" John's voice trailed off brokenly as his light sobs killed his words, "where did the blood…come from?"

"It's Sam's." Bobby explained in a voice which sounded almost too small to be his own, "When he was changin', he started upchuckin' blood."

John nodded in understanding, and instantly wished he hadn't gone and saved the kid. If he had been here, he would have been able to see Sam one last time. But no, Sam was now locked away inside that monster somewhere thinking his father hates him.

He needed to know he didn't, John decided.

"Sam?" John called weakly, only succeeding in getting the Beasts' attention, "Sammy? It's dad."

The Beast growled a deep throated growl as it ducked its head low and positioned itself into a crouch – eyes intent on John.

"Dean?" John whispered as he turned his head to face his oldest son, "Could you and Bobby…just go upstairs for a minute to check on Ellen and the kid? I'd like to have a few words with…Sam."

For a moment Dean looked like he was about to argue, but instantly backed down the moment he caught a glimpse of the complete and utter defeat in his fathers' eyes. It was apparent how hard he was taking this.

Dean then nudged Bobby's shoulder giving a silent nod of confirmation which Bobby returned before the both of them headed upstairs without saying another word.

Once John heard the basement door close, he turned his attention back to the Beast in front of him – and instantly, more tears began to fall.

The Beast wanted to curl up into a ball and die right there. It didn't want to smell its Human-Sides fathers' sour sadness! It wanted the man to cower in fear of it, not pity it! It wanted the sweet smell of fear to blind all its other senses, until the man was dead!

But still…the man cried, making its Human-Side thrash harder against his prison, giving The Beast a splitting headache.

"Sam?" John called again pathetically, "Sammy – son…I am so sorry I wasn't here for you."

The Beast growled as an answer as it hopped up onto the cot and lay down, putting its head on its front paws. These stupid humans weren't going to let it out, it knew. Would they go so far as to starve it though?

"I know you're in there Sammy." John said bluntly before he sniffled and rubbed his nose with his sleeve.

Its Human-Side bucked against his enclosed walls so violently, the Beast had to shake its head to clear its thoughts. It gave a tiny snarl, just flashing its teeth – a warning to its Human-Side to behave because it was still stronger than that pest.

"I'm so sorry for everything, Sam." John continued as the cracks in his emotional armor threatened to break completely, "I'm sorry for not ever letting you do what you wanted to do. I'm sorry for yelling at you when you said you wanted to go away to college. I'm sorry you don't agree with ninety percent of my orders. I'm sorry you got pulled into this life, Sam. I'm so, so, sorry."

Suddenly the Beast got to its four feet and roared angrily, loud enough to shake the walls. John looked upon the Beast in surprise as it made a lunge for the door – scratching at it with its claws, and biting at it with its large jaws.

It needed to get out of this room! Its Human-Side heard his fathers' words, and began fighting against the prison with everything he had, which was surprisingly a lot, The Beast noticed. Not so much for him to gain control, but enough to drive The Beast crazy!

It needed to get out of this man's range. It couldn't be near him right now, couldn't smell him, feel him, or hear him. It would cause his Human-Side to fight again. So The Beast charged at the door, and began to try and tear the door apart itself!

"I should have respected you more, Sammy." John continued as an open sob escaped his throat, "I should have been a better father to you and Dean."

The Beast tossed back its head and howled, not knowing what else it could do. Somehow it had to drown out the man's words; it was driving it nuts by giving its Human-Side the ammunition he needed to fight – no matter how fruitless his battles were. All its Human-Side had been reduced to was a shell of his former self shoved forcefully in a tiny box in the back of The Beasts' mind.

It knew that it's Human-Side – or _Sam_ as the brother and father continuously refer to him as – couldn't regain control. But what he could do was pound on its skull like an echo of a conscience that is no longer present, or whisper to The Beast.

John listened to The Beast in its cage howl loudly, enough to cause his eardrums to vibrate irritably. He wanted desperately for Sam to break through The Beasts hold and relay some sort of message that he was there. If John could get even that little bit of reassurance, it would fuel his need to save his youngest son – knowing that there still _was_ a youngest son to save.

And after a few minutes and The Beast hadn't yet calmed its howls down – John knew that there was his little ray of hope.

Sammy was in there with that monster fighting it – listening to his fathers' words of pitiful apology and despair – and fighting it tooth and nail for control, which was why The Beast began to sing its annoying and seemingly endless song. It wanted to drown out John's words, so Sammy wouldn't fight as hard.

When the thought went through to John, a tiny knowing smile crossed his face as he watched The Beast as its attack on the heavy iron door turned into mindless scratching every couple of seconds.

"I'll be back with something for you to eat soon, okay Sammy?" John asked with a certain confidence which sounded eerily too much like the usual John Winchester for The Beasts liking.

As if it understood John's words and the confidence weaved through the message, The Beast gave an infuriated growl, showing off its impressive set of teeth in warning.

John ignored the monsters' growls, and turned toward the steps leading up to the house with a bit more hope to cling to.

Sam was definitely in there somewhere – fighting the thing, trying to talk to his father. But of course the curse made The Beast stronger than the man inside, so Sam was reduced to nothing more than a whisper in the back of the creatures mind, John knew.

But still, John thought to himself as he climbed the steps slowly – if he, Bobby, Dean, and Ellen managed to keep The Beast confined just long enough until they found some sort of cure or counter-curse, then they'd be fine, right? They wouldn't have to put Sam down if the monster behind the wheel of his mind didn't kill anyone.

It was worth a shot, John decided as he reached the doorway into the house and turned the knob with a new determination colored clear across his face.

**xXx**

The Beast paced around the small prison with its head hung low and its eyes nothing more than slits the moment its Human-Sides' father left. It would pause every so often so sniff at a corner in the room, only to growl in frustration and resume its pacing.

It was trying to find a weakness in its iron prison, a chink in its armor. But so far it was unsuccessful, and was now beginning to grow impatient of its surroundings.

It wanted to hunt, and kill – not just other animals, but it knew instinctively that the best meat was by far human. Its mouth watered at the thought of tearing into its Human-Sides fathers' legs before working its way up to his more vital organs.

An annoyed thrum passed through the Beasts' mind at these thoughts, meaning the thoughts had upset its Human-Side.

The Beast only growled and licked its chops as emphasize how serious it was to Sam – only to be rewarded by a sharp consistent pain to shoot through its head. Sam fought against the thoughts with everything he had, but still The Beast was stronger.

_You've lost, Human-Sam. _The Beast thought with certain giddiness. _This body is now mine…and you…you have been torn down to nothing._

_I'm still here you son-of-a-bitch! _ Sam snapped back at The Beast that seemed to be surrounding him in the dark corner of his mind that he had been shoved in. _I'm not gonna let you kill my family!_

_You don't really have much say in the matter. _The Beast taunted with a snarl as it stopped its pacing to sniff at another corner. _Once I get outta here…and I will – my first kill will be Human-Dad. _

_Leave my dad alone, you bastard! _Sam spat with another mental kick at The Beast that surrounded him, knowing that his lashing out was causing it at least a little pain.

_Human-Brother will be next. _The Beast promised with a flash of its fangs.

Sam wrestled with The Beast for only a second before it got the drop on him and hurled him back into the dark corner he had just come from.

The Beast knew Human-Sam would be back sooner or later, but at the moment it had sent him to sleep. It needed a moment to think of how it was going to escape.

Suddenly, there was a loud _'CLICK'_, and the large iron door that held it in that tiny room opened slowly. Cautious, The Beast lifted its head and perked its ears as it sniffed the air eagerly.

It smelled human…a human was releasing it.

But why? The only humans that lived here were the ones that wanted Human-Sam back and The Beast to die. Hunters, it understood.

"C'mon doggy." The deep voice taunted, though the owner of said voice was just out of eyeshot, "C'mon out."

The Beast lowered its head and plastered its ears back as a snarl ripped through its chest, showing off its sharp and deadly teeth to its rescuer.

As a silent reply, though – the human tossed something heavy and wet into the room with the monster. It slapped the ground upon landing just to The Beast's right, and its attention was drawn to the heavy wet red mass.

It was a raw steak, The Beast noted pleasurably as it turned its head toward it curiously as it sniffed at it.

After a while, The Beast determined there was nothing amiss about this offering as it finally began to eagerly tear into its food with content little grumbles.

Whoever had given the monster the food was now laughing while it ate. Admittedly, The Beast found it to be disconcerting but ignored it. It got free food from the Human-Stranger, maybe it would let the mongrel live…if only a little longer than Human-Dad, and Human-Brother.

Now the laughing seemed to be growing distant as the Beast continued eating. Then suddenly, there was a loud 'CLICK' from the other side of the basement causing the monster to tear its head away from its food to resume its cautious stance.

Then it understood with grim excitement. The Human-Stranger had released him.

It was free to leave its prison, and kill its Human-Sides' connections to the world.

* * *

_Sooo...how was everyone's weekend? Hahaha. :D_

_Oh - and I have a favor to ask whoever is up for it, more specifically a challenge. I have the details posted in the forums, but its also on my author profile if you think you might be interested. Just take a look at it. ;)_

_Another update soon, guys! _


	28. Carry On My Wayward Son

_Chapter 28_

_

* * *

_

When John entered the kitchen, he was met with Dean, Bobby, and Ellen sitting at the table each holding a clear class containing a dark golden liquid, which John could only guess was whiskey.

Dean sat on one of the wooden chairs backwards, with his wide open bowlegs straddling the back of the chair. His green eyes were bright and rimmed with red, suggesting that once he got upstairs he had done some more crying.

Ellen sat in the wooden chair adjacent to Dean, the correct way – her right leg crossed over her left one as she balanced her glass on her lap. Her light hair hid her face as she kept her eyes trained on the glass in her hands thoughtfully.

Bobby had remained standing with his back to the kitchen counter and a glass of his own in his right hand. His blank face had returned, making his blue eyes look unfocused and vacant as he stared ahead past Dean, blankly.

Once John closed the basement door behind him, all eyes were instantly drawn to him – all of them looking curious, and full of melancholy.

"Where's the kid?" John suddenly asked, desperate to break the awkward silence as he paced toward Bobby.

"Asleep on the couch…the kid was scared outta his mind and refused to sleep the whole way up here, John. Poor kid's exhausted." Ellen replied before taking a sip from her glass thoughtlessly.

John nodded almost robotically as he remembered the entire trip back to Bobby's. He and Ellen had been probed by the panicking child since his rescue from the demons. Jeremy asked constantly where his parents were, and why had those mean monsters taken him from them?

After a few hours of being in the back seat of the car, and not once having John nor Ellen raise their voices at him since his rescue – Jeremy began to trust them albeit hesitantly. Ellen had even been nice enough to buy Jeremy something to eat for the car ride to Bobby's.

And once the child was certain John and Ellen weren't allied with the monsters that had kidnapped him, he asked a lot of questions…_a lot_ of questions.

But other than that, Jeremy really wasn't a bad kid. He was alright, John had to admit. Although he still didn't have the slightest clue what he was going to do with the kid once this mess was over with.

"I'm uh…" John began in a weak voice as he coughed lightly, while keeping his head low and his eyes downcast, "I'm gonna get Sam somethin' to eat."

"What the hell are you gonna feed him?" Dean wondered aloud, "I mean, when Sammy still had his human sense of mind – sure, raw meat worked…but now..?"

"It'll have to work for now too, Dean." John quipped back firmly, "The Beast will just have to deal."

Dean opened his mouth as his eyebrows drew together to show his mixture of emotions when suddenly a loud series of banging was heard coming from downstairs, followed quickly by a loud shrieking noise sounding like sharpened nails against a chalkboard – causing everyone in the kitchen to flinch as the sound assaulted their ears.

Dean cleared his suddenly dry throat as he stood from his chair slowly, looking his father dead in the eye as the screeching noise finally ceased, only to be replaced by The Beast's loud howls.

"I'm going down there." Dean announced as he walked past his father and reached toward the doorknob.

John nodded stiffly as he did his best to ignore the sounds the creature in the basement that used to be his son continued to make. "I'll be down there in a second to feed 'im."

Dean looked at his father blankly before giving him a curt nod as he placed his now empty glass on the table. He took a deep steadying breath, and forced his legs to carry his suddenly heavy body toward the basement door to see his brother.

Once Dean was out of sight, with the door closed behind him – John listened in as he heard Dean's stomping steps down the stairs become faint, and less pronounced. The moment he was sure Dean was out of earshot, John turned toward the refrigerator and pulled the door open gently.

Without looking up at either Bobby or Ellen, John stated sounding only a little hopeful, "I think Sam's still in there."

Bobby sighed, but didn't answer right away. He knew he had to tread in this territory gently; otherwise John wouldn't hesitate to over-react.

"I'm sure he is John…" Bobby replied softly, "Somewhere."

"No, he's closer to the surface than we think." John said flatly as he pulled out a pound of raw steak, still in its plastic wrapped container. He tossed the slab of meat in the sink irritably, and turned his attention back to Bobby.

"What makes you say that?" Ellen interjected before sipping from her glass.

"It's gonna sound nuts, but when I was down there talking to Sam…the Beast started going bat-crap crazy on the door…scratching at it, biting at it…and when I kept going, it started howling…almost like it was trying to drown me out." John explained without looking either Bobby or Ellen directly in the eye, "I think Sam was fighting it."

"I heard that ruckus…I just thought it was feedin' time." Bobby muttered a little sadly.

John opened his mouth to reply when suddenly footsteps were heard pounding up the basement steps in a hurry, and moments later, the door swung open and a sweaty, panic-stricken Dean appeared with his pistol held tightly in his right hand.

"What the hell happened?" John demanded with wide-eyed curiosity as Dean slammed the basement door closed behind him, and made the extra effort to latch the chain.

"The Beast got out." Dean announced, sounding slightly out of breath.

"What?" John yelled angrily as both Ellen and Bobby swiftly made their way to their feet.

"How?" Bobby demanded.

"Damned if I friggin know!" Dean argued irritably, "I just went down there, and the panic room door was wide open, and the basement window on the other side of the room was broken. Sam's gone."

"How the hell are we gonna get him back?" John asked no one in particular as he pounded a frustrated fist into the counter.

"I've got an idea, John. But first, we should poke around downstairs and see if we can find any clues." Bobby reasoned sounding slightly less panicked than his friend.

John nodded robotically and followed Bobby toward the basement with Ellen and Dean following suit.

One thing John knew for sure though, was there was no way Sam could have gotten out of that room without help. And John had his suspicions who that person may have been…and once John found that son-of-a-bitch, he'd be begging for _Sam_ to eat what's left of him.

**xXx**

The Beast stood just outside the house crouching low by the back door. It was going to kill its Human-Side's family if it was the last thing it did. It had to cling to that hope that the constant nudging in its brain and the ringing in its ears would cease, then.

But as for now, it would wait for them to come to it. It was a hunter, patient and stealthy. They would come eventually, and it had all the time in the world.

**xXx**

Gordon Walker stood anxiously in a spot behind an old beat up Ford, with a full view of The Beast as it watched the house it was just sprung from.

So far his plan was working perfectly. The Beast wasn't just some mindless animal, Gordon knew. It was a monster created from a witch who was powered by demons. This thing was evil.

With that in mind, it would want revenge against the Winchester's for keeping it locked in a cage…like Gordon wanted revenge for them preventing him from doing his duty, numerous times.

Normally, revenge was something Gordon wasn't too keen on – not when it had to do with people who weren't monsters, anyways. But these Winchester's were dangerous. They were blinded by their love for their youngest, that they couldn't see he was no longer there. He was a monster, now.

And the only way to free his soul from the monsters' grip would be to kill him.

If anything, he was doing them all a favor.

But they wouldn't stop getting in his way…so he had to show them just what John Winchester's youngest 'son' was now capable of.

The Beast shifted its weight from one side to the other as its ears plastered against its head. Its claws dug into the dirt below it in anticipation.

It wouldn't be long, now.

**xXx**

No one was really sure what they expected to find in the basement. It wasn't like whoever let The Beast free would leave a trail of muddy footprints to follow, because that would only make it easy.

But sure enough, they came up empty handed.

Now Bobby, John, and Dean were standing around in Bobby's library arming themselves up. Ellen had gone to check on the kid to make sure he was settled.

"Gordon's dead meat." John swore with a growl as he grabbed a rifle from its spot in Bobby's weapons cabinet.

"Are we even sure Gordon's the one who broke him out?" Bobby asked flatly, giving John a pointed look.

John gave Bobby a disbelieving look – his silent message clear, 'are you kidding me?'

Bobby shrugged halfheartedly as he handed a rifle over to Dean, who took it with a reproaching look.

"Are we sure these tranquilizer guns will do the trick?" Dean asked skeptically as he eyed the gun in his hands carefully.

"No…" Bobby admitted as he took a gun out for himself, "But this is the only thing I could think of to get Sam back without killing him. It should do the trick…there's enough juice in just one of these shots to take down a wild stallion."

John and Dean cocked their guns readily, before sparing guilty looks at each other. Dean knew that now was the time to set aside their differences to get Sam back to them. And once he was back – he _himself_, Dean – would kill Gordon.

This son-of-a-bitch wouldn't quit, and now neither would Dean. This was his final straw.

**xXx**

Awareness crept into Sam's foggy mind as he tried desperately to process what was going on, when suddenly his memory returned like a punch in the face. He wasn't in control anymore, but a passenger in this animals mind.

He saw out of the animals restricted eyes and felt what it was feeling. It was excited, and crouched low…_outside!_ What happened while the Beast had him so deeply buried? How did they get outside?

_What the hell did you do? _Sam demanded spitefully, _How are we outside?_

_Turns out Human-Father pissed off some humans as well…released us to kill him. _The Beast replied with a gleeful snort. _You know I don't mind that one bit, do I Human-Side?_

_Leave my family alone! _Sam snapped angrily, _Just leave! Walk away from here!"_

_I would, I really would…_ The Beast teased, _But you aren't being cooperative. It's my time now. You are literally _nothing_! Not even a _parasite_! Yet still, here you are – a constant nagging in the back of my head, commanding me around like you have the right. _

_I'll stop! _Sam reasoned in a pathetic whisper, _Let my family live – and I'll stop. I'll leave you alone._

The Beast was definitely intrigued by Sam's sudden willingness to give up. But it wasn't sure of its Human-Side's intentions. Was this a trick? It pulled its lips back, revealing its long curved fangs as it growled aloud in warning.

_This isn't a trick. _Sam said flatly, submission clear in his voice.

The Beast stood from its crouching position, its growls silencing as it cocked its head. And suddenly, it couldn't feel its Human-Side buzzing around its skull. It was almost as if Sam wasn't there anymore.

Experimentally, the Beast gave its Human-Side a mental nudge…and nothing. Sam didn't stir.

Satisfied, The Beast huffed before running off away from the house – away from the Salvage Yard, away from these humans.

When suddenly, the darker human who had released him appeared from behind a car where he had been watching the Beast the whole time.

The creature came to a halt, its ears plastered against its head as it examined the human before him carefully. He had a rifle in his hands. He wanted to kill it.

"Come on, you." The human said sternly, "You want to kill the Winchester's."

As the human spoke, he raised his rifle and motioned it toward the house – telling the Beast to kill its first intended targets.

But all the Beast saw was a raised weapon.

The creature roared with aggravation before pouncing on the human suddenly, and biting into his throat. It was rewarded with the sweet taste of the man's blood and a choked off scream as they sank to the dirt ground in a blur. The human dropped his weapon, but the Beast couldn't bring itself to care.

It was finally feeding time.

* * *

_Sorry you've been waiting so long for this update. :)_

_What does everyone think?_


	29. The Big Sleep

_Chapter 29_

_

* * *

_

John led the way out of the house with his tranquilizer gun held readily in front of him. Dean was right behind his father, with his gun in front of him as well; his finger lay gently on the trigger in case Sam appeared. Bobby brought up the rear – his eyes scanned his salvage yard warily as his gun followed his eyes, prepared for anything.

John gave Dean a hand signal, warning him to stay back. He and Bobby were going to go check behind some of the demolished cars before them.

Dean nodded simply and hung back with Bobby passed him – taking up John's side as the both of them crept toward the cars.

There was a sudden grunt, which sounded suspiciously like an animal…The Beast to be exact, coming from behind the little car John and Bobby were approaching. Suddenly, there was a sickening crack of bones breaking echoing through the night, followed shortly by the sound of fast-paced footsteps, running away from them.

John and Bobby immediately jogged toward the car, both knowing they had just missed the creature. But they needed to know what the noise came from.

John whirled around first, holding his rifle in front of him – ready to shoot…but the moment he saw what was laid before him behind the car, he immediately lowered his weapon. Bobby looked over John's shoulder, and clearly grimaced at the sight before him.

Blood. Blood everywhere. Blood pooled around a pulp, which John and Bobby could only assume was what was left of a person. The clothes were torn into ribbons and stained a deep, dark red of the persons' blood.

They wouldn't have to worry about the creature turning this person…there was barely anything left of whoever this was.

"Who do you think this was?" Bobby asked aloud, clearly deep in thought as he made his way around John to get a better look at the remains.

John exhaled deeply, not bothering to shrug. He tapped Bobby's shoulder to get his attention, and nudged his head toward a discarded rifle which had clearly been kicked halfway under the car. He looked back up at Bobby questioningly.

"That ain't mine." Bobby replied softly.

"I know." John confirmed with a grunt, "I'm willing to bet you top dollar though, that this is Gordon Walker."

"Gordon?" Bobby asked, "He's an idiot, John. But he's a damn good hunter…you really think this thing got the drop on him?"

"This _thing_ is running around with Sam's memories…and _Sam's_ a damn good hunter." John replied angrily, "I think if Sam didn't have his conscience weighing him down, he'd be able to take out Walker…yeah, I think it's definitely possible."

"You're probably right." Bobby agreed with a mirthless chuckle.

He turned his attention back to John curiously, with an eyebrow raised. "So what's the game-plan now, John?"

John sighed deeply before looking back up at his friend. "You stay behind and see if you can do anything about what's left of Gordon, here. I don't think you really want the police breathing down your neck."

Bobby nodded with an eye-roll. He knew John was right, leave those remains out too long, it'll start to smell – and then people will start calling in complaints. He didn't need that.

"Dean and I…" John continued, "Will keep looking for Sam."

"Where?" Bobby pried, "Where could that thing have possibly gone off to?"

"I dunno." John replied thoughtfully as he exhaled sharply, "The woods, maybe? The one just down the block..?"

"Ain't much of woods…more just a small gathering of trees - won't give you much cover." Bobby admitted as he scrubbed his hand over his worn face.

"Well, it's the only place I can think of, where he could've gone off to!" John argued.

"Alright." Bobby surrendered, "You and Dean go check it out."

John nodded a silent 'thank you' before calling Dean over. Dean immediately jogged over toward them, and came to a halt next to his dad. He inhaled deeply, and turned his head away from the mangled remains before him.

"Ugh…do we know who this is?" Dean asked.

"We think its Gordon." John replied half-heartedly, "But Sam's gone. Bobby's gonna stay here and clean this mess up, while you and I go look for the creature."

"Do you know where he'll be?" Dean prodded, looking up at his dad hopefully.

"I have an idea." John admitted, "But we have to hurry."

**xXx**

The Beast felt almost at home, for the first time. It had found a cover of trees and was now as far away from humans as it could stand.

Personally, it wouldn't have minded tearing into Human-Dad and making him into a meal, followed closely by Human-Brother…but a deal was a deal, and so far – Human-Side hasn't stirred once.

It was alone in its body, and happy as it could be. All around it, the smell of fresh blood and trees wafted around it – alluring it, calling to it. Animals hid all around it, watching it from their spots – making them almost invisible. Clearly they've never seen an animal quite like this Beast, and weren't too sure how to go about their lives.

Something about this creature called for attention, but all eyes were wary – no animal sure whether flight or fight was their safest bet.

The Beast placed a sure paw on the leafy ground, instinctively telling them that it was here to stay. It reared its head back, and let out a long drawn out howl – singing its battle-cry to the sky.

Suddenly, a twig broke in front of it, silencing its howl as it perked its ears, listening for what made the noise. The Beast sniffed at the air, trying to assess its stalker before realizing that it was no threat.

It lifted its blackened lips and revealed its sharp teeth in a snarl as a low growl escaped its throat. It lowered itself to the ground and took cover behind a bush as it waited for its prey to come to it.

Its meal clearly had four legs, and walked steadily on its paws as it stalked closer toward its hiding place, completely unaware.

When the Beast decided the animal was close enough, so close it could smell its blood – the creature pounced from behind the brush, landing on the startled brown coated fox. The Beast closed its large jaws around the fox's throat, slowly adding pressure, asphyxiating the tiny creature.

After a couple moments, when the fox's thrashing had come to a stop, and its fast paced pulse had slowed to a crawl, the Beast released its hold on the animal and roared over its prize triumphantly.

All around the gory scene, the animals who stood watch decided that 'flight' was the instinct to listen to. This creature was something to be feared.

**xXx**

Sam knew exactly where he was, and what was going on. He saw the scene of the creature in his mind killing Gordon Walker before it killed a little fox and still its hunger ravaged onward, seemingly unsatisfied. He felt blood on his face and…paws, as the Beast killed and gorged itself in meat.

But Sam didn't do anything about it. He just hung back, and watched. He felt what the Beast felt, he smelled what it smelled, and he saw what it saw. He was nothing more than a passenger in this ride, and the animal was behind the wheel.

And yet, Sam never made another move against the Beast because of its victims, none of them where who mattered to Sam. No one the Beast killed played a relevant role in Sam's life. And as long as that monster held up its side of the deal, Sam would too.

He would sit back…and watch.

Sam would sit in his own mind for the rest of the creature's life, and watch as it killed. He would never again be in control of anything, because Sam _wasn't_ anything. Just a memory.

So here he would wait, and here he knew he would die.

Sam wasn't a complete idiot, he knew his father or his brother would come and put him out of his misery. If there wasn't a cure before, there wouldn't be now…and Sam was ready for them to come and put him down.

He wished he could have seen his father one last time, Sam thought to himself. He wanted him to know that he wasn't mad at him anymore. He forgave him for going to look for the kid; he was doing it for Sam after all.

And he also wanted his father to know, that he would also forgive him for killing him. He knew it was for the best.

Sam was just so tired now…

All he wanted to do was rest.

* * *

_Sorry this chapter was kinda depressing, but I figured Sam's POV had to be done. :\_

_More soon, guys! _


	30. The Ghost of You and Me

_Chapter 30_

_

* * *

_

Later that night, John and Dean arrived at the small covering of trees Bobby had been talking about. Seeing it now, John knew Bobby was right, it wouldn't provide them with very much cover.

John took the lead as they entered the mouth of the woods, Dean took up the rear. Both men kept their guns raised, and held in front of them in case of any surprise threats.

Strangely though, everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

John lowered his weapon for a moment as he listened in closely for the sounds that were usually heard throughout wooded areas. Birds, other small animals, crickets.

"Hear that?" John whispered, cocking his head so Dean could better perceive his words.

"Yeah, nothing." Dean replied with a jerky nod.

"Alright," John suddenly said a little louder as he turned his back toward his son, "We need to split up. You go north, I'm headed south – we meet up at the car in exactly thirty minutes. If you find Sam…shoot, I'll find you."

Dean responded with another nod, before breaking away from his father with a slow and steady pace.

First thing Dean noticed was that ironically, the scenery around him somewhat resembled the one where Sam had first been cursed. Wet leaves splashed quietly beneath his feet, as more leaves fell from their branches on the higher trees around him – falling to the woods ground beneath him.

The leaves reminded Dean of fire, all of them telling him winter was fast approaching - as a red leaf fell directly in front of him.

Truthfully, Dean wasn't entirely sure he would be able to shoot Sam when he saw him. He knew that in his gun were only tranquilizer darts, and would do no serious harm to his brother.

But he couldn't help but think back to Sam when he was normal not so long ago asking him and their father about the demons plans for him. He was so scared of what he was supposedly destined to do, Sam never wanted to hurt anyone.

So this fate seemed so cruel to him. Sam needed something more than this. This couldn't be the end.

A sudden vibration was felt in Dean's pocket, causing him to startle. He had his phone on silent, so it wouldn't disrupt his hunt, but he had to wonder who would call him now.

Dean pulled his phone from his pocket, fearing it could be his dad – but on the tiny screen flashed 'Bobby Singer', to Dean's greater astonishment.

Why would Bobby be calling him? He knew where they were!

Dean decided to ignore the call; he couldn't chance the Beast getting the drop on him when he had his guard down. So he put his phone back in his pocket and resumed his slow pacing.

In front of Dean was a small clearing, and in the clearing was something large and hulking. But Dean couldn't see what it was, exactly standing there. He was still too far away.

So Dean crouched low to the ground and crept up on the figure silently, knowing in his heart that he had found Sam.

Dean stayed low, and stayed silent as he continued to slip through the shadows seemingly undetected like the well-trained hunter that he was. He knew it would be the end of his life if he so much as snapped a twig.

When Dean reached a small brushed mass, he peered through the leaves and saw that his suspicions were exactly right. The big giant figure in front of him was definitely the Beast. It had its back to him as it stood on four legs, definitely caught up in a meal…and from the looks of his surroundings, a rather bloody one.

From here, Dean had a pretty good shot on the creature. One shot, maybe two in the back and the Beast would be knocked out, and he and their dad could drag it back to Bobby's where it would stay till they found a way to cure him.

But he hesitated.

This thing had once been his little brother, the one he's protected since birth. The one thing that anchored him to sanity when their father was away on those long hunts when they were still children. Somewhere buried deep inside this thing, was Sam.

Letting his mind wander, Dean didn't realize he had made a noise as he shifted his weight and made a dry leaf crunch beneath his feet.

Instantly, the Beast's ears flicked back toward the noise as its head was drawn from its kill. It turned its large wolf-like head to get a better look at what would be so stupid to attempt to sneak up on it.

There, the Beast saw was Human-Side's Brother holding a gun, aiming it right at its heart.

The Beast lifted its lips into a snarl, showing off its blood-stained fangs. It was trying to intimidate Dean, but so far it made no move to kill him.

Truth be told, it had loved its time alone in its head. It didn't want its Human-Side to suddenly start acting up it the Beast broke their deal. But what was it supposed to do? Was it supposed to roll over and die because of a deal it struck with a whisper in the back of its mind?

The Beast turned its entire body toward Dean in one swift movement as a loud growl ripped through the silence around them. Dean fingered the trigger of his gun for a second, but couldn't quite bring himself to pull it back.

"Come on, Sammy." Dean whispered, sounding completely broken. His tough-guy façade dropped, and his eyes wide, showing the Beast its true inner torment. "You can fight this, little brother."

The creature cocked its head, and silenced its growls as it looked at Dean with something akin to curiosity. Had his words sunk in? Had Sam heard him?

The Beast felt its Human-Side stir for the first time in what seemed like forever, but it wasn't discomforting as it had been before. Instead, it seemed like all its Human-Side was doing was listening to his brother intently. But, it made no move to take control as he had before, which the Beast found relieving.

"That's it," Dean cooed as he raised his hands in a surrendering motion as he rose to his feet. Wrong move.

The Beast roared at him, and stood on its two hind legs. On two legs, the monster towered over Dean…hell, it was larger than Sam was when he was human. It lowered its head, to get a better look at its Human-Side's brother.

These humans were really frustrating it. Why couldn't they just leave it alone?

It wasn't naïve though; it knew why the humans wanted it. They were under the false impression that its Human-Side could be saved.

Well they were wrong, the only escape for Human-Side was death…and the Beast wasn't ready to go anywhere, just yet.

The Beast roared again as it began pacing toward Dean; the human backed away from the creature but made no move to defend himself. Once close enough, the creature raised its paw, unsheathing long and deadly claws – intent on striking Dean's throat.

But before the Beast could swoop in for the kill, a loud shot echoed through the night and the monster startled clearly.

Dean looked around him, before looking back at the creature he knew to be his brother. But what he saw was a large dart, imbedded in the Beast's abdomen.

"Sam, Sammy?" Dean called out, as the creature sort of lolled in its spot.

Its vision was beginning to blur, and its thoughts came in fuzzy. What had the humans done? What were they planning on doing?

The Beast let out a roar, which immediately choked off into a low and threatening growl as it sunk from two legs to four, no longer able to support itself with just two feet.

The Beast looked up at Human-Side's brother, and saw behind him was Human-Side's father, holding a gun at its head.

It had been so distracted by Dean; it hadn't seen John taking aim in the distance.

The Beast growled threateningly, but was rewarded with another shot in the neck courtesy of John's gun. It heard Human-Brother scream in protest before it collapsed to the woods floor in a spiraling world of black, knowing nothing but unconsciousness.

John ignored Dean's shouts, and knelt over to feel the creatures pulse. It was strong, and the tranquilizer was definitely doing its job. The Beast would be out for a few hours at least, which was just enough time to get it back to Bobby's.

John looked up toward his eldest son, seeing he was glaring back at his father with angry and accusing eyes.

"We don't have time for this Dean…we have to get him back to Bobby's, now! Help me!" John demanded as he slung his weapon over his shoulder, and lifted up Sam's upper half of his body.

Dean swallowed all grief he had toward his father and nodded. He knew his father was right. So Dean quickly headed toward the other side of Sam, and hoisted up his lower half.

Together, John and Dean got Sam to the car – where they placed his dead weight in the back seat.

Dean and John couldn't have been more relieved to have the creature back with them…but their nerves were still ever present.

What they really needed was Sam back.

**xXx**

About an hour later, John and Dean had managed to get the creature back to Bobby's without any problems. Together, the three of them unloaded Sam from the back of the car, and placed the Beast back in its iron coated prison.

And now that Gordon was dead, the creature would remain there until they found a cure.

Now, John sat upstairs in the living room with Dean, Bobby, Ellen, and Jeremy. It was the first time since arriving that Jeremy felt up to talking to anyone. He sat on Bobby's ratty couch with a wool blanket wrapped tightly around him, while the hunters stood in front of him – looking down at him curiously.

"Why'd you call before, Bobby?" Dean had asked shortly after arriving back to Bobby's, "You know damn well where we were."

"Watch that tone with me, son!" Bobby had warned, "Jeremy's up, finally…I think he's got something that could help Sam."

Both Dean and John lit up at that. After all this time, was there finally hope for Sam?

"What is it?" John demanded, not wanting to waste any time. If there was really a way to help Sam, he would go for it.

"Ask him…he's up now." Bobby had replied.

Now here they were in front of the little boy as he recollected everything that had happened to him since being captured by the demons…and before.

"It was really weird…" Jeremy said to no one in particular, as he stared down at his own hands, "th-the day those bad-guys took me, my mom had been acting weird all day."

"Weird, how?" Dean asked, trying to make his voice sound sympathetic as he spoke to the child, but at the same time – he just wanted to know what Bobby was getting at.

"It was a sc-chool morning, I woke up and brushed my teeth…and sat at the dining table to wait for breakfast, like I do every morning." Jeremy explained, sounding frightened, "Only…my mommy hadn't made breakfast that morning. Sh-she…she said I wasn't going to school that day, because she wanted to get to know me. She said she had my _fake_ mommy captured, and that she was my _real_ family."

Dean looked over at Bobby with a quirked eyebrow, still not quite understanding what the elder hunter was thinking.

"Th-then…" Jeremy continued as a tear slid down his cheek at the memory.

"It's okay, sweetie," Ellen cooed gently as she rubbed circles in the child's back, "Just tell these nice men what you told me, before. You're safe here."

Jeremy nodded before he continued softly. "Then…her eyes turned black, and she told me I'm from a long line of…w-witches. Is that true?"

"No, kid. That's not true." Bobby replied honestly.

Jeremy wasn't after all, descended from witches. They found out that it was his stepfather that was the true descendant of Elizabeth Godrick, but he had been killed by demons along with Jeremy's mother.

Jeremy nodded feverishly before gulping down the lump in his throat. "Th-then…she hit me, and told me to be quiet while she woke up Jerry…w-w-when he came out with her, she t-t-told him he had to b-be sacrificed. Then she killed h-him."

"One more thing, son." Bobby interjected, "Did the thing pretending to be your mom tell you its name?"

Jeremy gave a frantic nod before stifling a broken sob. "Sh-she s-s-said her name was Elizabeth."

John's eyes widened in understanding, as Dean's eyebrows rose in interest. Understanding flashed through John's eyes when he suddenly realized what had to be done.

Jeremy started full-on sobbing, as Bobby and Ellen placed comforting hands on the child's shoulders.

"That's enough for now, kid." Bobby said gently, before looking over at John and Dean with a knowing glint in his eyes.

The three men then left Ellen and Jeremy in the living room while they went into the kitchen to speak to each other in silent.

"So Elizabeth is still here." John murmured spitefully as he leaned his back against the kitchen counter, "That bitch."

"This all fits, John." Bobby said, sounding almost relieved, "Elizabeth goes to Hell, and comes back as a demon after a few years –"

"So the whole following Elizabeth's bloodline was just a bunch of crap." John replied, cutting Bobby off, "The demon we summoned just wanted to throw us off."

"It sent us on a Wild Goose Chase." Bobby agreed with a small nod.

"But seeing as Elizabeth is still _here_…there's still an origin of the curse to kill." John said more to himself than to either Dean or Bobby.

"That would also explain why they were after the Colt." Bobby offered with a shrug.

"Of course," John agreed, "because if we ever did figure out that Elizabeth is still around, we'd have a way to kill her. They wanted to get the Colt into their hands so we couldn't break the curse."

"But you didn't hand 'em the Colt." Dean interjected.

"No." John confirmed with a sly smile.

"So we have a way to gank this bitch, and end this..?" Dean asked hopefully.

John sighed as he tried to hold back his tears of relief. "Yeah, son…it would seem so."

Suddenly, a loud animalistic howl erupted from the basement – shattering their relief into pieces. The Beast was finally awake, but soon…it wouldn't be _The Beast_.

Sammy was coming back.

* * *

_I hope this chapter was a bit more encouraging than the last one. Haha. :)_

_Feedback is greatly appreciated! _


	31. Scream Aim Fire

_Chapter 31_

_

* * *

_

Later on, into the early hours of the morning, the hunters worked hurriedly and meticulously to find an exact Demon Summoning ritual. John Winchester would be the first to admit that summoning a demon twice in one week was stupid, but if it meant saving Sam, then he didn't care.

They sat in the library in silence, all trying to ignore the enraged animalistic howls coming from the basement which hadn't ceased since The Beast regained consciousness.

Dean hadn't spoken much since the news was given to him that there was still a chance to save his brother. He hadn't bothered to come up for air as he researched, either. His entire time was now entirely dedicated to finding a way to get this demon to Bobby's, and killing her. He was going to make this bitch pay deeply.

He had his nose buried in one of Bobby's older books, his arm supporting his head while his elbow rested on the desk. Dean shifted in his seat to get a bit more comfortable, which didn't go unnoticed by Bobby.

The elder hunter stood from his seat behind his desk in front of the fire place with a sigh as he paced casually into his kitchen.

Dean's eyes finally rose from the book, and tracked Bobby as he disappeared into the next room, before going back to his research.

A couple seconds later, Bobby came back into view with three bottles of beer in his hands. He headed toward the table where Dean sat, and placed a bottle next to the book in front of the younger hunter. Without looking up, Dean mumbled a quick 'thanks', before returning to his reading.

Bobby nodded silently before heading toward where John sat, in one of the chairs behind the table where Dean was. He handed John a beer without speaking, which John took seemingly thankful for the distraction.

John lowered the book to his lap, as he managed to open his bottle quickly. He tilted the neck of his bottle toward Bobby in a silent 'cheers' before putting his lips to the bottle and taking a long swig.

A couple minutes ago, a nasty thought niggled at the back of his mind. Realization had struck him as he tried desperately to find a proper demon summoning ritual, which caused him to pause for a moment.

There was only one bullet left in the Colt, and they hadn't yet killed the Yellow-Eyed Demon who had destroyed their family.

Would John really put that behind him, in order to save his son? He never brought the thought up in conversation, knowing how Bobby and Dean would react to the question because John knew the answer as well.

Of course he would use it to save Sam.

Mary was already gone, and John knew there was nothing he could do for her. She was the love of his life, and he would continue to love her until the day he finally died…but Sam was still alive (for all intents and purposes).

There was still a chance to save Sam with this bullet, and John was more than willing to take that chance.

They would just have to find some other way to kill the Yellow-Eyed Bastard.

"No luck, yet?" Bobby asked nonchalantly as he sipped at his own beer.

John shook his head gently as he rubbed at his temple, trying to relieve the migraine that had formed behind his eyes. He knew it was from the stress and all the research…and of course the Beast's constant howling wasn't helping matters either.

"How 'bout you, Dean?" Bobby asked, as he pulled his bottle away from his face.

"Nothin'." Dean mumbled without looking away from his book.

Bobby sighed before going back to his desk where his papers lay in askew piles, covering books and print-out pictures. Truthfully, it all looked like the scribbling of a mad man - but in ways, it did make sense. The elder hunter took up his seat, and continued looking through older texts.

_Finally, _after what seemed like forever – John came across something that should probably work. They had the demons name, so they could summon her specifically.

Relief flooded through John as he called his eldest son and his friend over to take a look at the ritual he had found.

Bobby wasted no time in looking it over carefully, his eyes scanning once, twice, and then one more time just to be certain.

Bobby turned his head toward Dean who now had his eyes fixed on the book Bobby had snatched from his father, and nodded.

"So we got it, then?" Dean asked, happily. It took every ounce of strength he had not to burst into tears of relief at that moment. Was this nightmare about to finally be over? Was he about to get his little brother back?

"Well, yeah…but - ", John began sounding hesitant before Dean cut him off.

"No! Come on, let's get to summoning!" Dean snapped impatiently as he rose from his chair with wide eyes trained on his father imploringly.

"We need a plan, Dean." John replied sounding much calmer than his son.

Dean sighed, and instantly tried to calm himself down. He rolled his eyes to himself, knowing that his father was right. They couldn't just go ahead and summon some demon with no plan.

"Fine." Dean mumbled his agreement below his breath, ready to listen to what his father had to say.

**xXx**

The Beast growled and roared as it paced its prison yet _again!_ The humans had gotten the drop on him, and placed him back into the tiny room where it started from.

Deal be damned, The Beast thought to itself furiously. When it got out, it was going to rip Human-Family to pieces and bathe in their blood.

At that thought, the Beast felt a fearful tickle in the back of its mind. Its violent thoughts had awoken its Human-Side, and was scaring him. It could tell that Human-Side was wary about telling the Beast to stop because if he did, than that meant Human-Side broke the deal first – making his family fair game.

The Beast howled angrily at the iron door as it rammed its body into it repeatedly, trying desperately to get back into the open space. It wanted to feed; it needed the feel of warm blood on its face, and in its mouth.

After a moment, the Beast felt Human-Side slide back into a deep corner of its mind, which made the creature pause.

It hadn't tried to coax Human-Sam back into hiding; he had gone there on his own as he had before. Curiously, The Beast reached back to where Human-Side was hiding in their shared mind, only to feel the most intense pain the Beast had ever felt, causing it to flinch visibly.

It came back to its presence of self, definitely happier than it was just a moment before. Human-Sam was so tired, so drained; he had retreated into the deepest darkest corner of his mind to hide.

Human-Sam had given up, and all he wanted now was to just be released from the monsters mind so he could rest.

The Beast had broken him.

As these happy thoughts ran through the Beasts' head, it heard the basement door open – shortly followed by a stampede of heavy footfalls heading down the stairs.

Family reunion, the monster thought to itself grudgingly as it snarled at the door.

The sliding peephole opened, and on the other side of the door stood Human-Father, Human-Brother, and Human-Friends – both the man and the woman.

Upon seeing all of them looking back at the creature, it lifted its upper lip into an angry snarl as it charged at the heavy door again.

"Jeez!" The Human-Woman whispered in surprise as a loud 'BANG' resounded through the entire basement upon the Beast's impact with the door.

Ellen had never really seen Sam like this, but she knew what to expect. She had seen him when he was so far gone, but there was still a bit of Sam left in him…this thing..? This thing, she would have never have guessed had ever been Sam.

"Sammy…" Dean murmured brokenly as his shining green eyes looked down at the monster on the other side of the door, "I know you can hear me in there, kiddo – come on."

The Beast reared backwards away from the door, keeping its golden wild eyes on Human-Brother. It looked mirthful, and happy to notice that Human-Sam hadn't acknowledged his brother. But whether Human-Sam was ignoring the calls or just hadn't heard them, the Beast wasn't sure.

"I need you to hang on in there, Sammy." Human-father spoke up, sounding almost desperate. "We're gonna get you back, just…just promise me you'll be in one piece when we do."

The Beast grumbled, and turned its back to the Humans in a clearly irritated sort of fashion. Why couldn't they just accept that Human-Sam was dead for all intents and purposes?

When the Beast turned back toward the Humans, it noticed that Human-Man-Friend, and Human-Woman-Friend weren't standing there anymore. But it could smell them close by as well as hear them tinkering with knick-knacks on the other side of the door.

What were they up to? The Beast wondered with a growl.

Bobby and Ellen had knelt down on the other side of the door. Ellen started drawing on the cement floor with chalk, a circle to summon the demon in - as Bobby began filling a tiny clay bowl with a strange yellowish powder.

When Ellen was finished drawing the circle, Bobby placed the bowl in the center as Ellen withdrew a different assortment of herbs from her front pocket, and began placing them on certain points of the circle.

Moments later, the circle was complete and Bobby and Ellen got to their feet. Satisfied that it looked correct, John looked over at Dean who gave an encouraging nod before looking back into the room which contained the angry Beast.

Without further hesitation, John stepped beside the circle, and snatched a sharpened blade from his pocket quickly. He sighed deeply, clearing his thoughts – and then began to mutter a Latin chant over the circle.

Dean kept his eyes on his father warily, not knowing how long it would take for this demon to show up. But he was ready for her; she wasn't getting any older than tonight.

When John finished reciting the Latin call, he held up the blade and ran a deep slash through the palm of his hand – letting the blood run into the clay bowl full of powder.

Instantly, the bowl sparked up and sizzled as smoke began to rise from its contents. And just as quickly as it had started, it stopped…leaving behind a smell of rotten eggs.

Everyone was silent now as their eyes scanned the dark basement cautiously, all except for The Beast who had started growling again once it smelled John's blood after he cut into his palm.

Dean wished the Beast would quiet down, so he could listen for anything out of the ordinary. It was hard to keep his senses open with that persistent growling.

When suddenly, the growling was cut off with a tiny whimper, which definitely alerted all of the hunters. Everyone's eyes instantly averted toward the large iron door, and through the peephole to see The Beast looking as submissive as they've ever seen it. Its ears were plastered to its head, and its tail sunk between its legs as it slid to the ground.

Looking at it now, Dean thought it looked more dog-like than Beast-like.

"You called?" A strange female voice asked teasingly from behind the hunters.

Immediately, everyone turned around to face the demon who had taken over a young brunette, just barely out of her teen years. Her long hair cascaded over his shoulders, and stopped just short of her breasts. She wore an all black cocktail dress, bringing out her slender figure in the dark lighting.

When her eyes changed from bright blue to black, John knew he was right by calling her.

"You're Elizabeth Godrick?" John asked sounding as threatening as he could muster.

"I was." The demon replied with a slick smile, "Before I became something better."

"I want you to lift the curse you originally placed in Wisconsin." John demanded, no argument in his voice.

"That's cute, John…" Elizabeth snorted, seemingly amused, "But why would I do that?"

"If you don't, then I'll kill you." Dean interjected flatly.

Elizabeth laughed mirthfully, clearly in on some joke that they weren't. She then turned around, putting her back toward the hunters as if she were about to walk away.

But she was stopped. It was as if she ran smack into an electric fence without the pain, but with an overpowering force that wouldn't allow her to move.

Curious, the demon looked up at the ceiling and noticed that she was standing directly under a sloppily spray painted Devil's Trap, trapping her.

The demon turned around to face her captors, and immediately turned her black beady eyes toward Dean as she considered him for a quick moment, her eyes inspecting as she sucked on her bottom lip.

"You have The Colt." She said sounding interested, it wasn't a question.

"We have The Colt." John confirmed spitefully.

"Hm…what if I made you a deal..?" Elizabeth asked, obviously trying to squirm out of the hunters' grasp, "What do you say, you give me The Colt – and I'll let little _Sammy_ go."

John looked over at Dean as if he were considering the offer, but Dean never looked away from the demon. He wanted her dead after all the pain she had caused Sam, after all the pain she caused their _family_. In his mind, this bitch was just a step under the Yellow-Eyed Demon.

"Come on, Dean…" Elizabeth said, sounding almost impatient, "You don't even know if killing me will lift the curse or not, so why even risk it? This way, you'll _know_ Sam will go back to normal."

The Beast on the other side of the door picked that moment to resume its growls of anger and impatience.

Originally, the plan was for John to summon the demon and distract her with trying to coax her into releasing her hold on Sam…and when she was least expecting it, Dean would shoot her. John had entrusted the Colt in Dean's hands, and had instructed him not to miss.

At that moment, Dean couldn't explain it…but he suddenly just knew everything would be okay. Everything was going to be just fine.

Dean turned his eyes toward his father imploringly, to see John was looking back at Dean curiously.

Nodding to himself, and knowing this was the moment – Dean withdrew the Colt from his waistband, and in one swift movement, pulled back the hammer and aimed it at the demons' head.

With a loud protest from John, Dean immediately squeezed the trigger – and watched as the final bullet in The Colt embedded itself directly into Elizabeth Godrick's skull.

* * *

_Hm...quite the cliffhanger, here. Haha. _

_Reviews are greatly appreciated! :D_


	32. The Boy With The Thorn In His Side

_Chapter 32_

_

* * *

_

The hunters in the dark basement watched in awe as the demon before them buckled to her knees as a brilliant yellow light ignited just beneath her skin, illuminating her skeleton against the pale flesh. A gray smoke rose from her mouth and nostrils as her unseeing eyes finally closed as the demon finally succumbed to death.

Finally, her body went lax, and fell to the cold floor beneath her with a loud crash.

Dean lowered The Colt, or the now useless shell of what the weapon used to be, as he stared ahead at the demon he had just killed.

He wondered what this meant, he knew everything was going to be fine now – it had to be. But how?

Curiously, Dean passed his father and his friends as he peeked ahead into the panic room with wide eyes and a breath that he didn't realize he was holding.

But his hopes suddenly dropped, and his eyes glossed over when he noticed that The Beast still remained. It sat in the panic room with its head held low, looking Dean directly in the eye in a challenging sort of manner.

Dean felt his father approach him from behind, he too looked ahead toward The Beast.

John released a shaky breath, as his eyes shifted from the creature in the adjacent room, to the back of his eldest sons head – accusation clear in his gaze. "Elizabeth is dead."

Dean didn't reply, instead he only lowered his head as he readied himself for his fathers' screams.

"Elizabeth is dead." John repeated in an eerie calmness, "And Sam is still..."

John couldn't bring himself to finish his thought as he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. The one who had started this whole nightmare was finally dead…and Sam wasn't changing back.

"Why…why didn't you wait for my signal? W-we had a plan, Dean." John stammered, his anger beginning to rise as The Beast growled at them angrily.

"I…I…" Moisture gathered in Dean's eyes as realization struck him hard between the eyes…he had failed. "I don't know."

"S-Sammy?" John called out brokenly as a tear slid down his cheek, running past his shattered guard.

The Beast responded by gathering itself to its feet in a rush, only to charge at the large iron door – resuming its attempts to bust down the door.

This time, John didn't flinch. He just continued to stare ahead at the monster that used to be his youngest son as it began flailing like some rabid animal with renewed strength as it attempted to find a way out of its iron prison.

For a moment, John was almost tempted to release it. It wasn't like this thing would ever turn back into Sam, anyways. As far as he was concerned…Sam Winchester was dead.

A cold fear gripped the pit of Dean's stomach hard as he too stared at the animal in the panic room. It was over now, and they had lost.

Sam was gone.

**xXx**

The next morning was a slow one. Dean had fallen asleep in a lumpy chair in Bobby's library the night before, but unlike the other night, he didn't fall asleep while doing research.

There was nothing left to research. No, Dean fell asleep in the library to give his dad some space.

John hadn't slept that night; he had been up all night talking with Bobby and Ellen in the kitchen. Their friends had attempted to pull John from his mood, telling him they just had to think of something else – and that this wasn't over.

But John had been adamant that this was over.

So instead, John decided he would pack his belongings – and by the afternoon, he'd be back on the road to find some other weapon to work against the Yellow-Eyed Demon.

Maybe he'd be able to avenge his wife's death, and Sam's girlfriend's…since Sam wouldn't be able to.

Immediately, John wiped the thoughts from his mind and turned back to backing his duffel.

Ellen was talking about taking off that afternoon as well, and taking the kid with her. Ash had found that the boy has some distant relatives who have been looking for him. Ellen offered to drop him off with them.

Dean got up, and stretched the kinks out of his back tiredly. Once his back cracked loudly, he stood up straight and headed out to the kitchen, where it looked like Bobby was waiting for him.

The gruff older hunter nodded a curt greeting, but didn't say anything as Dean passed him and pulled a mug from the proper cabinet gingerly. He wasn't sure he was ready for Bobby to tear into him just yet, even though he knew he deserved it.

Once Dean began pouring the coffee from the pot into his mug, Bobby cleared his throat and turned his sympathetic eyes toward Dean.

"I don't blame you, son." Bobby said simply as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Dean placed the hot pot of coffee back on the burner once his mug was filled enough for his liking, and turned his curious eyes toward Bobby. He hadn't expected him to be so understanding.

"Well, you should." Dean replied before sipping at the hot contents in his mug, "I do."

"We all thought killing that bitch would work, Dean…you were just doing what had to be done." Bobby offered with a half shrug.

"She said she would cure him…but I didn't listen." Dean reminded Bobby, trying to keep himself from crying again. He had already mourned his brother last night. He didn't want to spend any more tears on the matter.

"We'll find somethin' else." Bobby said, trying to sound encouraging.

"There is nothing else." Dean muttered brokenly, "My brother's…gone."

Bobby sighed deeply as he bit back an angry retort. Dean sounded like his father right now, and it was enough to drive Bobby crazy. But he knew that Dean was just talking out of grief. He knew Dean wouldn't let this sit.

"You know your dad's leaving this afternoon, right?" Bobby asked with a quirked eyebrow, trying a different tactic.

Dean shrugged as he took another sip from his mug before bringing it back away from his face to reply. "I overheard you guys talking, last night – yeah."

"You goin' with him? He's going after the demon." Bobby wondered.

"No." Dean answered with a deep breath, "I'll help dad kill the Demon…I won't let moms death go so easily…b-but…I dunno…it's j-just…"

Bobby nodded in understanding, halting Dean before he finished his sentence. Dean was saying it was too soon to just leave. He would need some more time.

"You don't mind if I stick around here for a little bit?" Dean asked politely, even though he was sure he already knew the answer.

"Of course not, ya idgit." Bobby responded with a halfhearted smile and a curt nod.

**xXx**

Later that afternoon, John stood in front of the front door with his hands full of his belongings. He glared at his eldest son for a quick moment before Dean leaned in and stole a hug from his father.

John instantly relaxed against his son and sighed. He knew he was being harsh with blaming Dean for this…but the demon was dead…and there was no one left to blame.

"Call once you catch wind of that bastard…I'll come help you." Dean offered as he released his father and took a step back.

John Winchester nodded sharply as he cleared his throat. "You know…you can come with me." He offered, uncertainly - his eyes still locked on Dean's.

Dean shrugged before replying. "Nah, I think I'm gonna hang back here for a little while…um…you know…get Sam's a-affairs in order and all."

John nodded curtly, not giving any other sort of answer. By 'affairs', John knew Dean meant he was going to go through Sam's belongings and keep what he wanted, and throw out what wasn't needed. It was going to be a long healing process for Dean…him too, honestly.

Which was why John was leaving. He didn't want to sit here and wallow in the loss of his youngest son. He didn't do that when Mary died either, do why would he now?

He gave Dean a pointed look, but kept his mouth shut. Dean understood the silent look, and immediately shook his head and became defensive.

"No, dad. We're not discussing this again. I'll deal with this my way, damnit." Dean snapped.

After Dean had woken up and talked to Bobby about staying, John had cornered Dean about what they were going to do about The Beast. It wasn't like Bobby wanted to keep a monster in his basement, so what John was getting at was…_killing_ it.

John had argued with Dean, saying that Sam was still trapped in that body – and needed to be freed so he could rest. But Dean had been adamant about keeping The Beast alive for the time being.

He told his father that when the time came for him to leave Bobby's, he would put the silver bullet in The Beast's head – no one else. He wouldn't leave the monster with Bobby, but he wasn't ready to let go of it just yet, either.

John nodded curtly, before opening to front door and walking out without another word to his son.

Dean sighed and felt about ten times lighter once his father was gone. He turned around to face Bobby and saw the elder hunter was watching him curiously.

"So, now what?" Bobby asked.

"I'm uh…I'm gonna head downstairs for a little bit." Dean replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Bobby nodded simply as Dean walked past him, heading toward the basement.

Dean headed down the steps quickly, his mind completely blank. He didn't want to think of anything, because everything made him want to die right then.

His father, his idol – was ashamed in him, and wanted him as far away from him as possible. And his little brother…his best friend…was gone forever.

But once Dean reached the bottom step, he paused. Something was different, Dean realized with a quirked eyebrow.

Usually, The Beast would hear someone coming down the stairs, and would start growling and making other animalistic noises…but today it wasn't. The only other time it had been this quiet was when The Beast had escaped.

Dean hoped that wasn't it as a sense of alarm filled his being when he suddenly rushed his way toward the large iron door and slid the sliding peephole open.

To Dean's surprise, The Beast was there in the room…only instead of stalking for a way out like it usually was…it was laying on top of the cot in the center of the room with its head resting gently on its paws and its eyes closed.

Worriedly, Dean paid attention to its chest, but instantly relaxed when he noticed that its breathing seemed very normal.

It just looked tired.

Honestly, Dean didn't think that these things even slept. It wasn't like they were actually natural animals, anyways. Just monsters.

Actually, if Dean were being completely honest – in this state, The Beast looked more like a regular dog than a monster, but kept his silent chuckle to himself.

"Well, glad someone is able to relax around here." Dean joked with a sigh.

The Beast cracked open a golden eye and looked over at the peephole to where Dean was staring at it. But strangely enough, even after noticing its viewer…The Beast did nothing hostile or aggressive.

Instead, it only turned over so that it was no longer facing the door with a tired grunt and went back to sleep.

Strange, Dean thought to himself as his eyebrows knit together.

His attention was then suddenly drawn to the cot beneath The Beast, and the floor surrounding it. Large clumps of thick dark fur littered the floor and cot surrounding the creature.

"What the hell…" Dean muttered to himself.

He didn't think this thing would shed either.

What the hell was going on with this thing? Dean had to wonder.

Suddenly, Dean's eyes widened and his eyebrows relaxed when a strange thought suddenly occurred to him. He wasn't sure if he was right…but it was worth a shot.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean called out in a silent mutter.

But that was enough, he noticed. The Beast's right ear flicked backwards at the sound of Dean's voice, and then the animal raised its head gently – almost as if it wasn't sure of itself and turned its large wolfish head toward the door, and Dean.

In its golden eyes, Dean saw an entirely new realm of agony's and sorrows he's never known, as if all the weight of the world rested on this things shoulders. But what caused Dean to gasp and lose control of the tears that had been building in his eyes was the conflicting conscious in the golden wolf eyes.

For the first time in a long time, Dean saw a conscious reflected in those eyes – and he knew that it was Sam who was looking back at him.

Sam was there, and he was hurting…badly.

"How…h-how are you in control right now?" Dean asked, sounding hysterical.

Sam looked down at his body, now looking genuinely surprised. He was in control…as a matter of fact, as he searched his mind curiously, to be sure this wasn't some kind of trick – he didn't feel The Beast in there _anywhere_. It was gone.

He offered his brother a small shrug as he slunk off the cot, feeling hopeful for the first time in what felt like forever.

But as his four paws hit the cement floor, Sam looked down at himself again and whimpered. Why wasn't he changing back if The Beast was gone?

As if reading his mind, Dean sighed deeply with a look of something akin to fear on his face. "Look at the fur around you, dude. It's falling out…maybe you're gonna change _back_ the way you _changed_. Slowly."

_…And painfully. _Sam added silently as he hung his head, not knowing if he was able to handle any more of this kind of pain.

More tears spilled from Dean's eyes as he looked down upon his brother. He was right. He hadn't messed anything up. He was getting his brother back, slowly…but that was better than not at all.

"I'm so glad you're back, bro." Dean choked out as he stopped himself short of just full on sobbing.

_Me too. _Sam thought back to his brother as he sat purposefully on the cement floor, looking up at his brother.

His hope finally renewed.

* * *

_We all happy now? Haha. I'm bringing Sam back. :)_

_Oh, come on! Did you really think I'd really kill off Sam? _

_I think I can coax a couple more chapters outta this thing, let's see. ;D_


	33. If and When We Rise Again

_Chapter 33_

* * *

Bobby sat in his chair in his library at his desk with the crackling fireplace casting a warm glow from behind him. He was just skimming through some more books for just anything that would help Sam. At this rate, he didn't care what he found – as long as they got Sam out of that body.

Suddenly, his head snapped up as his name was called urgently from downstairs.

Nervously, Bobby automatically made a grab for his rifle which hung on the wall and headed toward the kitchen. When he reached the door, he tossed it open and quickly stepped down the stairs with his gun held readily in front of him.

But once Dean came into view, the kid looked…excited? Relieved?

Immediately, Bobby lowered his gun and stepped over toward the younger hunter almost hesitantly. "What's the matter?"

Dean pointed toward the large iron door which separated them from the Beast. Bobby looked toward it before looking back at Dean curiously.

"Just look." Dean egged on with a smile on his face.

Bobby shrugged, and peered into the Panic Room through the slot hesitantly. Nothing was different. The Beast just sat on the floor in front of the cot, surrounded by mounds of its fur, with its eyes glancing up at him happily.

"Why's it shedding? It's gettin' its summer coat or somethin'?" Bobby asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean caught the attempt at humor and chuckled halfheartedly. "I didn't think it shed, either…"

"Strange…" Bobby murmured, still looking at the creature in the tiny room with curiosity. Something about it was different.

The Beast got up, and paced over toward the door slowly. Bobby didn't miss the fact that its demeanor had completely changed. It didn't look like it was heading in to kill, or continue its attempt to knock the door down. Instead, its big sad eyes kept staring at Bobby as it stood on its hind legs as it reached the door.

Bobby took a hesitant step back, not wanting to be near the door when the creature tried to ram it down again.

…But its assault on the door never came.

Instead it looked him in the eye intently. Bobby broke its gaze for only a moment to blink away the surprise as it looked the animal up and down.

At the moment, the creature looked more like a giant dog than a Beast. But it had to be a trick. It had to be trying a new tactic in order to gain their trust.

Bobby sighed as he took a step away from the door to look at Dean – who was watching him expectantly with the biggest smile Bobby had seen in months. It was a bit of a relief, but at the same time – he feared what it meant for Dean and his sanity.

"Sammy's comin' back." Dean announced in a shaky whisper as if he were too scared to speak any louder.

Bobby exhaled deeply as he glanced back and forth between the creature watching them from behind the door, and Dean. There was no way to break this to him gently.

"Dean…do you really believe that?" Bobby asked in a calming tone, trying to keep the emotion from his voice.

Immediately, Dean's smile dropped at the same time as the Beast let out an almost pained whine followed by a short growl – though it didn't sound threatening.

"What do you mean? Look at him! Sam's gonna change back!" Dean yelled, trying to get Bobby to understand.

Bobby sighed and closed his eyes to hide from Dean the clear disbelief shining through. "Kid…I know it's hard. But Sam ain't comin' back."

"He is!" Dean exclaimed, while tossing his arms in the air as emphasis. "My brother is right there! I was right! The curse is lifting!"

It broke Bobby's heart to see Dean this way. There was no way Sam was coming back, and Dean was blaming himself. If Dean had been seeing this with a straight mind, he'd see how impossible Sam's return was.

Still, Bobby turned his attention to the Beast just on the other side of the door and saw a certain spark in those hazel eyes that had been missing for so long.

Wait…hazel?

Bobby startled as he stared unblinkingly at the monster whom was glaring black at him with a tilt in its head looking curious…not deadly.

It had to be a trick. The Beast must have figured out a way to screw with them. This couldn't be…Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered half hysterically.

The canine Beast whined as it tilted its head toward Dean, acknowledging him with a slight nod.

What the hell was going on here?

"Are you the real deal, dude?" Dean asked, carefully replacing his bravado over his relief and fear, "Not that mutt that's been trying to eat us?"

The monster grumbled and snorted in a distasteful fashion. It wasn't a blatant yes or no.

"Give us some kind of proof." Bobby finally interjected forcefully, "How can we believe you're really Sam?"

**xXx**

_How the hell am I gonna convince Bobby that I'm me? _Sam thought to himself frantically. He knew Bobby wasn't an idiot, so it had to be something good.

It wasn't like he could rattle off any sort of 'Sammy' memory…his currently canine snout didn't seem to comply with human speech, unfortunately for him.

And it wasn't like he could exactly hold a pen and write out a message, Sam thought to himself as he cursed his lack of opposable thumbs.

He stomped a paw on the cement floor beneath him in frustration as his unsheathed claws clicked on the hard floor.

Realization dawned on him, and his ears twitched at the noise.

He knew what to do.

**xXx**

Dean and Bobby watched the creature expectantly, both holding their breaths waiting for it to do something to either convince them it was Sam, or try to chew its way through the door again.

They both hoped it was Sam.

But for a moment nothing happened, the canine monster only stared at them, as if deep in thought. When suddenly, a clicking noise in short patterns pulled Dean's attention.

_Click, click, scratch, click, click. _

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, not really understanding what was happening. He looked in the room and looked down at the Beasts paws as it raised its right paw and placed it on the cement ground, its claws the source of the noise.

"I'll be damned…" Bobby muttered with wide tear-filled eyes.

"What?" Dean asked, obviously not getting it.

_Click, click…scratch…click, scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch, click…click, click, click…click, scratch, click…click…click, scratch... click, scratch, click, click…click, scratch, click, click…scratch, click, scratch, scratch…scratch, scratch…click_

Now Dean had to admit, THAT was strange. It seemed a little too systematic.

He mulled the sounds over in his mind over and over when it finally fell into place, realization dawning on his face as joyful tears sprang to his eyes.

"Morse code." Dean murmured.

_'It's really me.' _ Sam had said.

The creature – Sam nodded eagerly.

Immediately Dean reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out. He sniffled as he hit the number which immediately dialed their fathers' number. He held the phone to his ear and waited impatiently for their father to answer.

After a couple minutes, it went to John's voicemail. Dean sighed impatiently as he disconnected, but held the phone in front of him.

With shaky fingers he text his father a simple two word message…

'_Sam's ok!"_

**xXx**

John was already two towns over, on his way to the next hunt. Some demons had been causing the locals trouble in a little town in West Texas. It was a few days drive, but John figured that's what he needed.

He needed some time to himself to deal with the fact that he had just lost his youngest. He knew that pain would never die; it would always be with him.

That, and the feeling of complete and utter failure. He had failed as a father to keep his son safe.

Tears threatened to spill, the more John thought about it that way. But it was the way he felt about it.

His son and wife were dead, and all he could do now was mourn and kill the supernatural scum bags that killed them.

John would deal with Sam's demise the same way he dealt with Mary's…

Hunting.

Suddenly, John's phone went off loudly from his pocket, distracting him from his melancholy. He fished his phone from his pocket with a frustrated sigh before withdrawing it – his left hand still gripping the steering wheel tightly.

The ID flashed Dean's name brightly.

He didn't feel like talking right now. At the risk of seeming like a terrible father, John just didn't want to live his loss with his remaining son just yet.

John sighed as he placed the phone on the passengers' seat and just let it ring.

When it stopped ringing, John placed his left elbow out the window, his hand rubbing his temple as he kept his eyes on the road ahead of him.

He would speak to Dean when he got to his destination, in the meantime – Dean could go ahead and leave him a message.

Just as that thought occurred to him, his phone lit up again and buzzed on the seat eagerly.

John exhaled sharply as he grabbed for his phone again and held it up to his face, while still steeling a look at the road every couple of seconds.

Dean had text him.

With an annoyed grunt, John opened the phone and glanced at his sons' message.

Immediately, John slammed on the brakes of his old truck and for a moment thanked God that he was the only one on the abandoned road at this hour.

Tears spilled down his cheek as he read the message over and over as if there was some other hidden meaning behind them.

There couldn't be, right?

John instantly hit the read button to get rid of the message before dialing Dean's cell number with shaky fingers.

Dean answered on the first ring.

* * *

_Did you think I was going to leave you? _

_I'm sorry, guys. Admittedly, I had lost my muse to this poor story. I and really do feel bad for leaving things off the way I did. So here's a new chapter! _

_The next one won't take as long! I promise! :D_


End file.
